“But in four hours’ time,” Shade continued, “you’ll grow weak again. Very weak. We’ll have IV drips and oxygen standing by in case you sink to dangerous levels. Whatever happens, we’ll be ready for it.”

Melancholia doubted that very much, but she smiled and thanked her nonetheless, and Shade put away her charts and instruments, and left the chamber.

“Cleric Craven,” Melancholia said, “is it OK for me to be alone for the next few hours?”

He frowned. “We need to conduct more tests, Melancholia.”

“But this is a lot to take in, and I think it would really help me if I had the night to myself. I’ll submit to all the tests in the morning, I promise.”

Craven sighed irritably. He had a tendency to get irritated very easily. “Yes, very well. The night, then. Tomorrow, tests.”

“Thank you, Cleric,” Melancholia said, and bowed her head. She knew Craven responded well to things like that.

The Cleric walked from the room, ushering the guards out before him. The door closed, and Melancholia allowed herself a smile. Twenty minutes, and she’d feel that power again. Twenty minutes, and she could have herself a little fun.

Chapter 12 - Bump in the Night

Chapter 12
Bump in the Night

lice woke at a little before midnight, and Valkyrie muted the TV before scooping her out of her bed. Her parents were out. Valkyrie didn’t mind. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was relax at home with her little sister.

“Hello,” Valkyrie said. “You’re awake, then. Did you have a good sleep? Are you rested?”

The baby looked at her and said nothing. Valkyrie took one of the bottles from the side table, teased it down to Alice’s mouth until she started feeding. Her phone rang.

It was Fletcher. “Are your folks still out?”

“Yep. Me and the kid are downstairs. Want to come over?”

“Be right there,” he said, and hung up.

She looked at Alice. “Your sister is a bad person,” she whispered. “Two-timing is not an admirable quality in anyone.”

Fletcher appeared beside her. He peered at the baby.

“Can it do any tricks yet?” he asked.

“I’m still working on it. Want to hold her?”

“God, no,” Fletcher said, laughing. “I’d drop it.”

“It’s not an it, it’s my sister. Go on, hold her. You won’t make a mess of it, I swear. Only an idiot could drop a baby.”

“You always say I am an idiot.”

“But you’re a special kind of idiot. Here.”

She passed Alice into his arms, and he stood there, rigid, a look of intense concentration on his face.

“I’ve got to support the head, right?” he asked. “And the rest of the body, obviously, but mostly the head. The head’s the important bit. Am I doing it right?”

“You’re doing fine.”

“Do you think it likes me?”