I tried not to think about how completely terrified I was. It wasn’t just the prospect of trying to fight my way out of the mansion while I was in labor. It was the possibility that my son was a horrific monster like Evangeline’s child. He could rip his way out of me, kill me before I ever had a chance to see his face.

Even if he was a completely normal adorable little cherub, I was still scared. Because I didn’t know how to be a mom, and I didn’t know how I would keep him safe from my own family members, never mind the multitude of enemies I had. Many of those enemies were staying right here in Lucifer’s house for the wedding that would now never happen, all of them conveniently placed for snatching my baby away or murdering me before he could ever be born.

I took a deep breath. The cramping feeling had intensified, although it was nothing like the way birth looks on television, with the mom all sweaty and screaming her head off with every contraction. It just felt like I had the worst menstrual cramps ever.

I stood up gingerly, using the wall as a brace. No matter what, I was not going to get far without Nathaniel, and I wouldn’t leave him or Beezle or the others behind anyway. So I reached for the connection between us. We weren’t able to send messages, per se, but I hoped that he would feel my need and my distress and find me.

The darkness inside me opened its eyes, lurking, waiting for me to drop my guard so that it could take over again. I ruthlessly put a lid on that part of my power. I didn’t need to deal with an internal struggle for my personality and sanity right now. As usual, I had more than enough to deal with.

But I could feel the black energy seeping around the edges of my connection to Nathaniel, looking for an opening, looking for a way in.

“Nathaniel,” I said aloud. I thought I felt him respond, but I wasn’t sure.

Maybe we were, as I’d suspected, in another dimension here in the basement. When I’d been on that strange planet far away in time and space, I hadn’t been able to feel Nathaniel. Which meant that I would have to at least get back up into the mansion before I could call him to me.

“I’m not Nathaniel. I’m Jack,” Jack said.

He was soaked in sweat. He looked like one of those people from the P90X commercial, jumping around all over the place and seeming superhappy about it. I don’t get those people. I’m not quite as lazy as Beezle, but how can anyone be that happy when they’re expending that much energy?

“Come on, exercise boy,” I said. “We’re busting out of this joint.”

I waddled over to his cell and waved my hand over the lock, opening the door.

“Yes!” Jack said. “What do we do now? Sneak out of the house?”

“I doubt there will be any sneaking,” I said. “As soon as we get to the top of the stairs, there will be guards. And we will have to dispatch those guards before they raise an alarm if we want to have any chance of escaping at all. So I need you to calm the fuck down and stop acting like a toddler who just ate a bag of Halloween candy. Because if everything is blown because you’re acting insane, then I will personally throw you to the bottom of these stairs.”

“No, you won’t,” Jack said, swinging his arms back and forth. “I know all about you now. You talk tough, and it’s cute, but you’re just a big softy.”

I wanted to list off all the big, dangerous creatures I’d battled and defeated, but it sounded too much like bragging, and I didn’t really like to brag about the murders I’d committed, however justified. Plus, there was not enough time to convince a half-crazed human that I was a hell of a lot tougher than I looked.

“Just stay close to me and don’t make any noise. Got it?” I said as I started up the stairs.

It would have been significantly faster to fly, but I would have to carry Jack. Under normal circumstances I would have plenty of strength for such a task, even though Jack was about ten or twelve inches taller than me. But it took a lot of work to remain calm in the face of increasing contractions as well as maintain control over my lurking dark side. I didn’t have much left over for carting around the wayward blogger. So it was climbing the stairs for us.

Jack immediately pushed ahead of me and started jogging up the stairs.

“Hurry up, won’t you? Why are you so slow?” He started to sing the chorus from an old Duran Duran song.

“I am going to kill you when I catch up to you,” I mumbled. “I have tried so hard to forget the eighties.”

I fluttered up to the step behind him. There was no reason for me to trudge up the stairs and get out of breath chasing him if he wanted to run the whole way up.

We were about halfway to the top by my estimation when Jack suddenly ran out of gas. He slumped against the wall, sliding down until his butt hit the step. His face was white and pale, and he looked like he might boot.

“Don’t you dare throw up on me,” I said. “I’m the one who’s about to give birth here. I should be falling down and getting sick, not you.”

My hands were wrapped around the shifting bulge in my belly. I was trying to slow my son down, trying to keep him from emerging into the world at that very moment. I didn’t want to reach the top of the stairs and have the baby pop out right there, into Lucifer’s waiting arms.

“I feel like crap,” Jack moaned. “I don’t think I can climb another step.”

“Serves you right for behaving like a lunatic,” I said, trying to pull him to his feet. “No one made you run up the stairs like you were in the Olympics.”