“I think . . . I think the baby might be coming after all,” she gasped out.

Adrian blanched. “When you say ‘coming,’ do you mean now or kind of in the near future?”

The question was ridiculous enough to momentarily draw her from her pain. “I don’t know! I’ve never had one before!”

Adrian looked up at me. “So . . . um, you know how to do this, right? Deliver a baby?”

“What?” I asked. Panic seized me now. “Why would you even think that?”

“Because you’re so good at everything else,” he said. “All I know is what I’ve seen in movies. Boil water. Tear up sheets.”

As usual, I clung to logic to try to calm myself. “You could boil water for sterilization. But the sheets? That’s not really—”

A scream from outside interrupted my babbling. Adrian moved his body protectively to shield Olive, and I summoned a fireball to my palm. We all stared wordlessly at the dark window, unable to make out what was happening. We heard shouts and another scream, making my imagination run wild.

“I wish Neil was here,” Olive whispered.

“Me too,” I said, thinking I’d feel a lot better with him standing by the door with a silver stake.

Adrian squeezed Olive’s hand. “You’re going to be fine. Sydney and I will protect you. Nothing’s going to come through that door that we don’t want.”

Just then, the door burst open and Rand Ivashkov appeared, face frantic.

“What’s happening out there?” I demanded.

He slammed the door shut behind him and sank into a chair. “Strigoi. Dimitri told me to come stay here with you guys.” He eyed Olive’s state uneasily. “In case you needed help.”

“Not unless you’ve got a secret medical degree you’ve been hiding from the family,” snapped Adrian.

“How many Strigoi are there?” I asked.

Rand shook his head. “Not sure. Probably only a few or we’d all be dead by now. But a few can do a lot of damage if they get the drop on you.”

Olive made a small cry of pain, and we turned back to her.

“Another contraction,” I noted.

“At least it’s been a few minutes. Maybe he’ll wait until this is all over,” Olive replied.

“He? You know it’s a boy?” Adrian asked.

“Not for sure,” she admitted. “But I just have a hunch.”

“I believe in hunches,” Adrian said seriously.

Another scream sounded, and I tried to provide a distraction for Olive. I might not know everything about labor and delivery, but stress like this couldn’t be good for a pregnant woman. “What are you going to name him?” I asked her.

Adrian followed my lead. “Adrian Sinclair has a nice ring to it,” he said.

Olive’s eyes, full of fear, watched the window and door, but her lips curled into another smile at the joke. “Declan.”

“Nice Irish name,” I said.