Reborn (Shadow Falls: After Dark #1)(111)

“What did he want with Chan?” she asked.

Kevin answered, but her phone was cutting him on and off.

Holiday looked at Della. “You’re about to lose service any minute now.”

“Look, I’m coming up on a dead zone, can I call you back later?”

The line went dead. Della, confused and furious, stuck her phone in her pocket.

“Something wrong?” Holiday asked, probably picking up on all of Della’s emotions.

“Yeah,” she said.

“You want to share?” Holiday asked.

“Chase knew Chan and he never told me,” Della said. “Something’s up with him, Holiday.”

Holiday let out a deep moan and yanked the car to the side of the road.

Della didn’t understand Holiday’s strong reaction. But when she looked at the fae, she saw she had her hands white-knuckling the steering wheel.

Holiday’s moan hadn’t been about Chase.

“Are you okay?”

“No,” Holiday said through tight lips. “Something’s … the baby.” She moaned again.

Della grabbed her phone out of her pocket to call Burnett, only to remember the dead zone.

Holiday let out another deep groan. A whooshing sound filled the car. The skirt of Holiday’s yellow dress, tucked between her legs, grew dark. “My water.” Holiday dropped her head on the steering wheel, looking to be in extreme pain.

“Okay. Okay.” Della told herself to say calm, but calm was the last thing she felt. “Let me drive. I’ll take you to Dr. Whitman.”

Holiday nodded, but it seemed to take effort for her to release the wheel.

Della jumped out of her side and ran around. By the time she got to Holiday, she was lying in a heap on the side of the road.

“Holiday!” Della dropped down beside her. “Holiday, talk to me. Please talk to me.”

She held up one hand. “I … the … baby’s coming.”

“I’ll go get help.”

“Don’t you dare leave me! I’ll send death angels after you if you do.” Holiday grasped Della’s hand so hard, it might have cracked a bone.

Threats weren’t Holiday’s style, so Della knew this was serious.

“I won’t leave.” She watched Holiday reach down with her other hand and hug her bulge. That’s when Della saw the blood. Lots of blood now stained the front of Holiday’s dress.

Tears filled Della eyes. Was something wrong? She remembered the show she’d seen of the woman giving birth. There had been blood, but she didn’t recall this much.

“Get me in the backseat,” Holiday cried.

Della inhaled. She opened the car’s back door, gently picked up Holiday, and placed her in the seat.

As soon as she got Holiday down, Holiday screamed. And loud. “My panties,” Holiday yelled. “Take them off.”

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you to the doctor? I can drive fast.”

“No time,” she said. “Baby’s coming!”

Della mentally pulled her big-girl panties up and physically pulled Holiday’s big-girl panties down. The blood was already pooled between her legs. Fear clutched Della’s belly.

If something happened to Holiday or the baby, Della couldn’t live with herself. Then again, she wouldn’t have to: Burnett would kill her.

Holiday reared her head back on the seat and started grunting. Della saw what looked like the baby’s head between Holiday’s legs.

If someone had asked her what she would be doing today, not in a million years would she have said “delivering a baby.” Swallowing a ton of insecurities, she snagged Holiday’s purse. Finding the alcohol cleanser that Holiday always carried, Della squirted it all over her hands.

“What are you doing?” Holiday seethed.

“It’s okay,” Della lied. “I saw a show once on how to deliver a baby.” She tried to sound confident, but she had about as much confidence as an ant taking a stroll among a crowd of joggers.

Holiday, too busy gasping for air to answer, nodded.

“I see the baby’s head,” Della said. “I think this is when you’re supposed to push. As soon as the baby is born, I’m driving you to the doctor.”

Holiday did what looked like an ab crunch and let out another ear-piercing scream. The baby slipped out so fast, Della almost didn’t catch it. It … no, she, it was a girl. “It’s a girl” Della said aloud. But the baby was slimy and bloody, reminding Della of a wet puppy. Panic shot straight to Della’s heart when she realized that the tiny infant wasn’t breathing.

Again remembering the show, she reached into the baby’s mouth and used her fingers to dip out any fluid. Then, fitting her palm over the baby’s chest, she turned her over. She patted her back. One. Twice. “Breathe!”

She didn’t breathe.

“No,” Della muttered. She turned the baby back over, massaged her little chest, then turned her over again and gave her another pat, only stronger.

The baby jerked, gurgled, and took her first breath. Della, not even realizing she hadn’t taken in air, took in a breath of her own. Only when the child let out a cry did Della look up at Holiday.

“She’s okay.” Della’s relief vanished. The baby wasn’t the only one in trouble. Holiday lay unconscious.