Hold Me Closer, Necromancer - Lish McBride [50]
At first she saw nothing. Perhaps she’d done the spell wrong? But then she felt it, that whisper of arctic chill. The cold died for a second, replaced by the green smells of early spring, the taste of sunshine and growing things. But the cold came back a second later.
He would take after his uncle.
Tia pulled away and opened her eyes. With a finger, she wiped the herbs out of her baby’s mouth. She curled up on the small bed, her son held close in her arms, and cried. The chemical smell of the pillowcase and sheets overwhelmed her, and she cried harder, wishing for the familiar smells of home.
The nurse came in a little later and handed a clipboard to Tia. Then she took the baby. “I’ll bring him right back,” she said. She nodded at the clipboard. “You want to wait a bit to fill those out? See if your husband gets here?”
Tia shook her head. For all his talk about wanting a family, Kevin had been surprisingly detached from her pregnancy. It was like he was waiting to find out what the baby would be before he decided to love it, the way some dads hold a baseball mitt all through the delivery, only to throw it away when they discover their bouncing baby boy is really only the first two Bs. He didn’t say any of this to her. As far as she could tell, he had no idea that she knew. But it had hurt to watch him going through the motions.
The nurse left with the baby, and Tia started writing. An uncharacteristic flare of anger burned through her. If he couldn’t get here in time, then he’d just have to deal with the consequences. She filled out the first and last blanks easily: Samhain Hatfield. But what about the middle name? Tia had brought a list of possibilities, feeling that she really couldn’t choose until after she’d met her baby. Names were important, and nothing on the list fit.
Tia took a sip of her water and turned to gaze out the window, thinking. An enormous crow sat on the window ledge and stared back at her. Crows were ambiguous creatures. Many saw them as ill omens, some as omens of change. Others thought them messengers to the gods or guides to the other world. Everyone seemed to agree that they are sacred in some way. Tia wasn’t sure how to interpret the birds but felt in her heart of hearts that the goddess left evil out of most creatures. Humans being the exception, of course.
This particular crow, however, gave her a bit of the willies. It was so big, and it just kept staring. Tia focused on her paper again, but out of the corner of her eye she could see the black blob of crow waiting patiently.
The nurse brought Samhain back in, cooing at him and making faces.
“He sure is a cute one.”
Tia smiled at her in thanks and took the baby back. The nurse glanced at the clipboard. “Need a few more minutes?” she asked.
“If you don’t mind.”
The nurse seemed to support Tia’s indecision. “Name’s an important thing,” she said. “Nothing more disturbing than people just filling out these forms without hesitation. Child’s going to carry this for the rest of his life. Some thought should go into that.” She reached over and gave Samhain’s nose a little tug. “You take all the time you need.” She said good-bye and shut the door behind her.
Tia set the clipboard aside and held Samhain instead. A blur of black caught her eye and she looked back at the window. The crow had brought friends. Many, many friends. The ledge was cluttered with them, and they were all staring at Samhain. The birds were an omen; whether good or ill, she couldn’t know. Either way, she wouldn’t ignore them. Samhain was already starting out at a disadvantage, and he certainly didn’t need angry omens on top of that.
She settled