Between Light and Dark (30 page)

Willow sighed. "Keep faith. Once the Earth Balancer is
born, we will gain the upper hand."

Mobius nodded. "Yes. But for how long?"

Laurell leaped from the dining table in the main house and
rushed to the bathroom, where she was promptly sick. Once
the quivering in her stomach ceased, she stood and went to
the sink to rinse her mouth. She straightened and peered in
the mirror at the pale face staring back at her.

Hillary appeared behind her, face etched with concern.
"Was my homemade turkey chili that bad?" she teased.

Laurell managed a small smile. "It was great, Hill. I just
should have known better than to eat chili right now. I've
been queasy off and on for days."

Hillary tsk-tsked and led her out of the bathroom, holding Laurell's arm and leading her to the couch. Laurell sank
gratefully into the cushions.

Hillary handed her a glass of water, which she gulped in a
few swallows. "That child sure is giving you grief. No wonder you haven't put on much weight during this pregnancy."

Laurell looked down at her stomach, which certainly appeared to be plenty large from her vantage point. "I've gained
weight. My belly looks like I'm eight-and-a-half months
along."

"Developmentally, you are that far along. However, you
really haven't gained much considering all the eating you've
been doing." Hillary's tone was teasing.

Laurell groaned. "I'm ravenous all the time. The wonderkid must be taking all the food."

"It takes a lot to grow a baby strong enough to save the
world from the Umbrae," Hillary said.

Laurell leaned back into the couch and rubbed her hands
absently over her belly. The nausea had subsided. "I thought
nausea only happened for the first trimester. I mean, I know
this isn't a normal pregnancy by any means, but doesn't it
follow at least some of the usual patterns?"

"Some women are nauseated through their entire pregnancy. Be glad you don't have to deal with nine months of
being sick," Hillary advised.

Axiom's voice drifted from the kitchen, followed by
Thumper's. The sound of the refrigerator door opening and
closing ensued. Minutes later, Axiom appeared in the living room with a sandwich and a soda. He took one look at
Laurell's face, set his food down on the nearest end table,
and approached the couch.

"You are not well?" he asked.

"I've been a little sick to my stomach. I'm okay."

"Is it the child?" He pulled a chair up close to the couch
and dropped onto it, placing one hand on her belly as
though he could ascertain the baby's well-being through
her skin.

"He's fine too. I think it's normal for me to get sick sometimes."

Hillary touched Axiom's shoulder and he jerked around
as though just realizing she was in the room. "She's right.
It's normal. They'll both be just fine, Axiom."

"Thank you," he said, and Hillary disappeared around
the corner, back toward the kitchen.

Once they were alone, Laurell touched Axiom's cheek.
He had a few days' beard stubble, dark circles under his
eyes, and his skin was pale and wan. He hadn't been acting
himself of late. He'd been spending more time than usual
in his cabin alone. When she'd rapped on the door to talk
to him earlier that day, he'd called out he wasn't feeling
well and needed to rest.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

"I am fine," he responded, but then his gaze turned distant and guarded. His big hand was still splayed over her
stomach, warm and heavy. She liked the feel of it there.
He'd taken to spooning her while they slept, one of his arms
tucked beneath her head and the other lightly holding her
belly. Once, she had woken in the middle of the night to
feel his fingers stroking her stomach ever so slightly. Deep
warmth and a hesitant contentment had surged inside her.

"Why do I think there's something you're not telling me?"
She placed her hand over his so both their hands rested on
her belly. The movement got his attention, and he focused
back on her face.

"Mind reading is not one of my powers, so I do not know why you think this." It was his attempt at a joke, but his
smile was strained and didn't reach his eyes.

Laurell wasn't fooled, but if he didn't feel like talking
about whatever was bothering him, she wasn't going to
push it. Not yet anyway. "You know, the Axiom I met a few
months ago wouldn't even crack a smile, let alone a joke.
You've come a long way."

"A long way how?" he asked.

She shrugged. "I don't know. I guess you're behaving like
a human being instead of-" She halted midsentence.
She'd meant to compliment him, but the words had come
out all wrong.

"Go on. How did I behave previously?" His expression
was taut.

"I'm not sure exactly. You're just softer around the edges.
That's all."

"This is considered a good thing? To be soft around the
edges?"

Laurell squeezed his hand. "In my book it is, yes."

Axiom pulled his hand from hers and sat back in his
chair. "It is not considered so in the Light Realm. A warrior
god should not be vulnerable or, as you said, soft."

Laurell pulled herself into an upright position. "Axiom, I
just meant you've loosened up a bit. I really did mean it as a
compliment." She leaned forward, pressed her lips to his in
a small, gentle kiss. She tilted her head back and flashed
what she hoped was a reassuring grin. "Why are you being
sensitive? Are you still feeling sick?"

"I told you, I am fine." He shifted away from her and
stood up. "Can I get you anything?"

She shook her head.

"I am going to my cabin, then. I will see you at dinner."
He left the room before she could protest. Laurell's stom ach knotted. Why had he been so distant these past few
days? She aimed to find out.

Axiom lay on his bed and stared at the ceiling, trying to determine how best to explain to Laurell that they should
sleep in separate cabins. Since the episode in the woods
with Wayne, when his shadow side had again attempted to
take hold of him, he was becoming more and more concerned about his ability to hold the dark energy at bay. He
noticed that as the child grew in Laurell's womb, his struggle for control became more difficult.

He sensed this had something to do with the enormous
light energy growing inside of the child. The Dark would be
attracted to that power, would want to snuff out the Light
like a breath against a candle flame. He had known his
shadow side might attempt an upsurge once he had been on
Earth for an extended period of time.

He had not anticipated the pull to be so strong. Just as he
had not expected to feel so deeply for Laurell. Nor had he
been at all prepared for the possessiveness that surged within
him when he gazed at her blossoming belly and when his
mind lingered on the baby inside. His child. He shook his
head and rubbed his eyes with fisted hands.

No. The child belonged to Earth. The child was to be the
Earth Balancer, the one being who could save the planet
from destruction.

Perhaps it is still the effects of this human form. These thoughts
about the child, the desire for Laurell, and the need for her touch
and companionship could all be created by this body I inhabit.

The strange hold Laurell had on him would likely dissipate once he returned to the Light Realm and his god form.
His chest tightened painfully. He shoved the sensation aside.
The Earth Balancer would be born soon, and he would have fulfilled his mission. All he had longed for would be his. His
place on the Divine Council would be assured.

He needed only to fight the lure of the Dark a bit longer.
And since the child in Laurell's womb beckoned and
taunted the Dark inside of him, he would limit the time he
spent with her. He did not think Laurell would take the
news well. I will discuss the matter with her soon, he thought.
Right after a short nap.

The inner battle to keep the darkness at bay left him
more tired than usual, and he could not afford to be at less
than his fullest power when the time came for the Earth
Balancer to be born. Although they had been successful at
keeping the Umbrae out of their protected circle, it seemed
too easy. The Umbrae would be desperate by now to gain
access.

They were crafty creatures. He did not doubt for a second
they were formulating their plan of attack. They would find
a way to infiltrate. It was merely a matter of time.

Axiom woke to an incessant pounding on his cabin door.
How long had he been asleep? He sat up slowly, still dazed
from slumber. Long moments passed before he could focus
his eyes on the bedside clock. He realized he had missed
dinner. Hours. He had been out for hours. Axiom ran one
hand through his hair and rose from the bed. The room
tilted and righted itself again. He frowned at the wave of
dizziness that washed over him and shrugged his shoulders
to dispel the sensation. He started toward the door, but
halted when the air around him became heavy and electricity trickled over his skin. The hair on his arms stood on
end. A spasm of pain sliced into his midsection and momentarily stole his breath. The sensation passed. He sucked
in air, grateful as oxygen filtered through his lungs. It was happening again. Already. His dark half was vying to upset
the perfect balance inside him.

The pounding on his door continued. Another sharp jolt
hit him, agonizing in its intensity.

"Axiom, are you in there?" It was Laurell's voice, muffled
by the barrier of the wooden door.

The darkness inside of him curled up his spine, unfurling
its murky fingers and spreading beneath his skin. He
silently willed Laurell to leave. He would not allow her to
see him this way.

"Axiom, I know you're in there. I just want to talk to you.
I want to show you a spell in my grandmother's Book of Shadows. I think it could be useful." A pause. "And I brought you
some dinner too."

He ignored her, hoping if he did so, she would retreat.
She pounded some more. The door shook.

"Open the door right now, or I'm coming in." Her words
were strained, worry evident in her tone.

He remembered he had locked the door and was thankful for his foresight.

The door handle jiggled. "Fiona gave me the master key.
I'm coming in one way or the other."

The shadow energy filled his vision with the usual horrid
pictures of cruelty and misery. He surged god force. Every
muscle in his body tightened as he mentally clamped the
dark energy down.

"Not now," he managed to croak out between clenched
teeth. He tried to cross the space between the bed and the
door, intending to bar her entrance with his body if he
must, but all his power was being directed at the battle
waging inside him. He could not move even one limb
forward.

"You sound weird," came the voice on the other side of the door. A moment of silence, then, "I'm coming in." A
clicking in the lock. A squeak as the door creaked open.
Laurell appeared in the doorway, backpack slung over one
shoulder, keys dangling from her fingers. He struggled to focus on her through the vile images that flashed through his
brain. His body shook with effort.

Her jaw went slack. "What the hell?" The keys slipped
from her fingers and made a jangling sound as they hit the
wood floor. The backpack followed, issuing a thud.

She rushed to his side and ran her hands over his arms,
his chest, his face. "Oh my god. What's wrong? What's happening?"

At her touch, his shadow side arched and twisted harder,
deeper. His blood rushed through his veins and pounded
with such force he could no longer hear her words. His
palms burned, his hands itched to touch her belly, to encompass the child inside, but not in tenderness.

The Dark wanted to claw the baby from her womb,
stomp on that tiny but luminous light until it was no more.
This time, he used every bit of strength he had to keep his
body from moving, to force his hands to remain at his sides.

"Get away," he growled. "Before I kill you."

Laurell's spine stiffened. Her hands stilled. Confusion flitted across her lovely face. "What's wrong with you? What
can I do?"

Axiom felt his hands move of their own accord, toward
her stomach and the mound nestled beneath her jacket
and sweater. Just as his fingertips brushed the fabric of her
coat, he mustered enough power to lift his hands to her
shoulders with one swift jerk and give Laurell a shove backwards. She stumbled, grabbing the bed for support, and was
now a few feet away from him.

Her gaze narrowed and met his, searching. Whatever she
saw in his eyes turned her brief spike of anger to fear, stark
and vivid. He could read it in the lines of her pursed lips, her
heaving chest, and the shaking hands she held up to him.

"Don't move," she murmured. "I'll ... I'll get help." She
took a few steps backward, edging toward the door. He
tried-gods, how he tried-to stay rooted to the spot. But
that dark energy was now focused on the child and resisted
his attempts to cage it.