I nodded down at the baby in my arms, still wrapped in someone’s coat.
Dimitri’s face was hard to read. “If she had family living here in this camp, he’d go to them. I’m sure we could also contact her family on the outside, whoever’s left of them. There’s a tradition . . .”
“Yes?” I prompted.
He studied the baby uncertainly before continuing. “There’s an old tradition among dhampirs, especially those living in dangerous places and in uncertain conditions. Whomever the mother first gives the baby to becomes its guardian. Like I said, it’s old, but I’m guessing that’s why Olive was so insistent about seeing you and why Lana hasn’t tried to take him from you yet. I’m sure as soon as you tell her—”
“No,” I interrupted. “That’s perfect.”
“You . . . want this baby?” asked Rose, making no attempt to hide how improbable she found the idea.
“I want to get the baby out of here,” I said. “I want as few people to know about him as possible. Or that I’m taking him.” I thought back to who’d been around, Lana and the two warrior dhampirs. I wasn’t sure if anyone else had been there when Olive had been found. “Can you talk to Lana? Tell her we’re taking the baby to Olive’s family but that it’s being kept quiet? And tell her not to mention my involvement to anyone. If we don’t make a big deal about any of it, most of these people will assume we’re taking him to his next of kin. But I’d prefer if he was as unmemorable as possible. I don’t want anyone else seeing him or thinking too much more about him.”
Rose and Dimitri exchanged understandably perplexed looks. “Adrian, what’s going on?” asked Dimitri.
I shook my head. “I can’t tell you. Not yet. But believe me when I say this baby’s life may depend on what we do now. Will you help us?”
That was a hard argument for them to go against—and it wasn’t a lie either. Because as we walked back toward the heart of the commune, my power gradually began creeping back. And each time I tuned into Declan’s aura—looking closely, almost at the cellular level—I could see that infusion of spirit. It’s unlikely anyone would notice it unless they were really looking for it.
And I understood with a shocking clarity why Olive had been afraid. Why she’d turned her back on everyone she knew and run off to a hole in the woods. What had happened, what I was holding in my arms, shouldn’t exist. Two dhampirs couldn’t make another dhampir. It went against one of the most basic rules of biology in our world. It was impossible, yet here it was.
He was a miracle.
But Olive had been right that there were people who’d want to study Declan, who’d want to possibly lock him up and experiment. And while I was ready to acknowledge that his birth was a wondrous, joyous thing, I wasn’t ready to let his life be a series of experiments and finger-pointing—especially when his mother had died to protect him from that.
Dimitri spoke to Lana privately, and either because of that dhampir tradition or his own reputation (maybe both), she acceded to all our requests. She gave us a vacant cabin to stay in until dawn. When we asked for supplies, she sent them via Rose or Dimitri so that Declan would have as little exposure to others in the commune as possible. I needed him to be out of their minds. I needed them to forget him.
Of course, that meant Sydney and I were in charge of his care that night. And in a few short hours, I learned more than I’d ever expected to about babies. She was able to look up some information on her phone, taking comfort in logic and facts. The signal out here was bad, though, and sometimes we found it was easier to take a guess on something than wait for an answer. Declan, fortunately, was a forgiving guy and proved pretty accommodating as we figured things out together. He was patient as Sydney and I painstakingly read the instructions on the can of formula Lana sent. He made little complaint when I initially put his diaper on backward. When he grew tired again and started crying, I had no instructions to follow. Sydney gave a helpless shrug when I looked at her. So I just walked him around the living room, crooning classic rock songs until he dozed off and could be set down.
Rose, who’d stayed with us off and on but looked more terrified of the baby than a Strigoi, watched me with amazement. “You’re kind of good at that,” she remarked. “Adrian Ivashkov, baby whisperer.”
I looked down at the sleeping baby. “I’m making it up as I go along.”
“Are you ready to tell us what’s going on?” she asked, her face growing grave. “You know we just want to help.”
“Not yet. But if we can leave when Dimitri gets back, that’d be—”
Sydney’s phone chimed with a text message. She looked surprised that anyone would be reaching out to her until she took a look at the display. “It’s Ms. Terwilliger. She’s mobilized the witches in Palm Springs. They’re ready to start searching.”
Rose stood up. “For Jill?”
“For Alicia, technically, but also for Jill,” said Sydney. “She says we can join them . . .” She looked at me uncertainly, and I could guess her thoughts. We’d made this Michigan detour because we had time to pass while waiting for things to be ready for us in Palm Springs. Having a baby in tow hadn’t been part of anyone’s plan.
Sydney, Jill, now Declan, remarked Aunt Tatiana. So many people counting on you. So many people to let down if you fail.