Spring Rain (The Witchling #4)(7)

I can make the pain stop, Bartholomew said.

Dawn didn’t acknowledge him for a long moment. The more miserable her third trimester became, the more she considered the offer. But it meant potentially putting her baby at risk if she did what he wanted, and the baby was the key to making Beck suffer for the rest of his life.

There were moments she was too angry to care and others when she recalled that the best revenge against Beck and the rest of the Light witchlings was to have the baby and hide, to raise the child of the Master of Light in Darkness.

She started away from the window and smacked her shin into a coffee table she couldn’t see over the bump of her belly. Cursing, Dawn sat with some difficulty.

“Tell me again what that means,” she said and contorted her body to see her shin. It was bleeding and would definitely be bruised in the morning. She wasn’t able to reach it to put a band-aid on though.

It means you go to sleep. I take over. I bear the pain.

“And my baby?” Uneasiness swept through her. No matter how angry she was at Beck or her condition, her child was a different matter.

No harm comes to her.

“But …” She always sensed there was more that Bartholomew didn’t say.

No harm comes to her.

“No. Again.” She settled back. “The first plan is best. We grab the soul stone. You get what you want, and I get to make Beck’s life miserable forever.”

Except you’re defenseless without me. Decker will find you once I’m gone.

She’d thought of this endlessly. It didn’t seem bearable to spend her life with Bartholomew in her head and a child to take care of. She also didn’t want to be killed in the hospital by the Master of Dark after she gave birth. Decker had promised as much, and she didn’t think Beck was going to stop him when it came down to it.

I swear. No harm comes to your baby.

The offer was starting to sound good, especially since she hadn’t slept a full night through in over a month.

“Dawn.” Someone tapped on her door.

She struggled to her feet and grabbed a robe, irritated when it didn’t close around her belly. Whipping open the door, Dawn met the gaze of one of the witchlings who accompanied her on her hunt for Morgan. Troy was a tall Dark fire witchling, the only other fire witchling she knew aside from Morgan and Decker. “What, Troy?”

“We didn’t find her, but we found Noah.”

She frowned. “What’s my brother doing in town?”

“I’d say looking for Morgan, too.”

He betrayed you, Bartholomew reminded her.

She shook her head. Enough time had passed that she had reconsidered what Noah did in December and assumed he was probably sorry. After all, he’d always been her sweet little brother. He’d never purposely betray or hurt her.

But he did. Bartholomew never forgave or forgot. It had become clear he didn’t care about her relationship to Noah or the fact that blood ran deeper than anything else. She was willing to hear her brother’s apology out and welcome him home.

He will destroy you. You cannot trust anyone, least of all him.

“Stop it,” she growled at Bartholomew. Turning her attention to Troy, she spoke. “Where was he? What was he doing?”

“He was at the coffee shop where Morgan works. We lost him when he left.”

“Did he see you?”

“I don’t think so.”

Dawn contemplated how to handle her brother being in town. “It doesn’t matter,” she decided. “Go back to the coffee shop. She’s gotta be within walking distance. Don’t come back until you find her.” She whirled and retreated into her room.

“What about Noah?”

“What about him?”

Kill him. He will turn you over to Decker.

She gritted her teeth, tired of the constant chatter. “We will not kill him!” she snapped.

“Okay,” Troy replied.

It’s a mistake, Dawn. You made it with him once. Let me handle him.

“If he becomes an issue again, you can,” she growled. “Right now, I need some sleep!” She slammed the door on a frowning Troy.

The moment she lay down again, the baby began kicking.

I can take all this away, Bartholomew reminded her. Just say the words.

Dawn said nothing this time, on the verge of tears. She needed a break and some real rest, along with a certain soul stone to appease Bartholomew and destroy Beck. The thought of turning over her body until the baby was born sounded incredibly enticing.

But the small part of her that feared for her child didn’t trust anyone, even Bartholomew, to protect her.

“I’ll think about it,” she said. “We have a backup plan anyway.”

Morgan’s brother.

“Exactly. If we can’t take the stone, we’ll flush her out by torturing her brother.”

It is a good plan.

“About time you acknowledged it,” she replied acidly. “We don’t always have to do things your way!”

Conviction, Dawn. If you take Connor, you must kill him. It’s the only way to break Morgan’s will.

“We’ll see. If we can find her here in Vegas and use her against Beck …” Her Dark air magick swept around the room. She relished the thought of having Morgan pleading at her feet and slicing the witchling up in front of Beck. Morgan, too, had taken any chance she had with Beck away. But maybe, if the fire witchling were out of the picture completely, Beck would have a reason to return to Dawn.