Vora slipped off her bed and masterfully made it after a flip of her hair. Her sleepy grin turned into a sour frown. She ran into the bathroom and vomited into the toilet. She wiped her mouth and thought, Again? What’s wrong with me?
Klev’s ears perked from across the house, and he found his wife hunched over the porcelain bowl. She turned her head and grinned at him nervously.
“Still sick?”
Vora sighed. “It comes in spurts. Don’t worry about me, Darling. I feel perfect as I always am.” She stood and splashed her cheeks over the sink.
“It’s only been four weeks, and all you’ve been doing since that day is working. You refuse to even talk about it, which worries me.” Klev crossed his arms. “You’ve been through more than a human should.”
“I want to move past everything that has happened. I just have some food poisoning or something to that effect. It’ll pass, darling,” Vora assured with a wink, her voice cheery.
Klev wasn’t swayed by such action. “That’s not going to work. Please go to the doctor. I won’t budge on this,” he added after receiving uncertain sparkling chocolate eyes.
“Naturally,” Vora said tamely.
Vora brushed her teeth with powerful mint, and Klev placed his palms on her shoulders. His soft smile in the reflection forced a flutter from Vora’s breast.
“I have to take the shop, so take the HC to the clinic.”
Vora spat blue goo into the sink. “Fine. Fine. I’m going, darling,” she said with a minty, vomity tongue.
***
Vora sat across the doctor in the sterile-smelling room. Her toes fidgeted in her black shoes as the back of her throat was examined with a tiny light. After that, a cold stethoscope was pressed against the right of her navel.
“I have good news or bad news,” said the doctor, removing her gloves.
“Or?” Vora dropped her brows. “Don’t you mean ‘and’?”
“Or. Congratulations. You’re pregnant. Or if it wasn’t planned, sorry, you’re pregnant,” she hummed.
Vora froze with a knotted stomach. She experienced joy, worry, and fear all in one stew. “You must be joking.”
“I’ve been doing this for forty years. I’m sure as the Bell in the sky. Twins, I bet, too.” She tapped her nose.
Vora beamed. “I must wire my husband immediately. May I use your candlestick phone?”
“You may if you so want. But wouldn’t it be better to see his face in person? I have a permanent picture in the back of my skull of when I told my husband.” The doctor chuckled
Vora cleared her throat, then nodded. “You’re right. Knowing Klev, he may faint. Or explode. I worry he may die.”
“That’s a bit extreme.”
“Hmm? Not as far off as you would believe.” Vora giggled.
***
“Grandchildren? I’m still getting used to being married,” said a panicked Klev.
Madeline was staying over in White Hill for a few weeks to spend time with her daughter. It was a girls-only event: Rudolf wasn’t invited. Klev was still present and was inadvertently growing a stronger bond with his mother-in-law.
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They were in the kitchen, chatting about the married life. Maddie was giving some advice for the future of the Bekkan family. Advice that made him uncomfortable.
Madeline was stirring a coffee, palm on chin at the table. She was peering expectantly. “Get used to it fast. I want grandchildren before I die.”
“I don’t think I would be a good father.” He chuckled awkwardly.
“Bah.” Madeline sipped her coffee. “That’s what Rudolf said, too. I’ve seen you grow up and know you’ll do a better job than Ruddie.”
“Right. Are you just saying that to get grandchildren?”
Madeline only laughed in response. At that moment, Vora came into the kitchen. Her face twisted in confusion from the two’s silence.
“What is it?” she asked with her sultry voice.
“Nothing. Nothing.” Madeline stood. “Klev was just saying he wanted to be a father.”
“N-No. That’s not true. I mean, I’m not saying no. Just not right now, you know?”
“I see,” Vora leaked after a pause. She gave her mother a look, and knew this was her doing. “Mother. Let’s get going. We are nearly late for the MP theater.”
“I tried, at least,” Madeline muttered, thinking of Rudolf.
***
At one of the eight chains of the Burning Bell buried into the border, numerous Chimes were stationed. Marble structures circled the brass extension the size of a town. Humans were banned from going near the chain and were ordered to smote on sight.
A gothic woman holding a pistol with a cyan glow approached a group of Chimes stationed far away from the chain. Before they could react, she turned their hearts into rust with some swift shots.
Following the woman were hundreds of HC over the horizon. This event wasn’t exclusive, as all eight chains across Ruth were charged by the Dowser led by the Ten Drowned.
“You want to burn real fast, heretic,” a Kindler said after emerging from a divine step. “You are merely mortal and have been nothing else.”
“Sounds wicked,” Eight grinned. She pulled two black metal objects with glowing edges off her back that snapped and twisted into a large pair of scissors as long as her body. “Mortality is an illusion.”
Dozens of sigils emanated from the ground, and more Chimes entered the fight. With a minuscule sneer, Eight dashed from Chime to Chime and decapitated, shredded, and snipped ivory skin, moving like a shadowy gale.
A large Chime emerged behind Eight in a flash of light with a great axe held over his head. Before he could swing down, a young man with fiery hair punctured a hole into his back with a Fallite knuckle.
“It’s a good day to die, just not now, Eight.” Four retracted his hand, and the Chime fell forward, splitting him in half by Eight. “Pay attention. Wake up.”
“You’re far too happy,” is what Eight wanted to say, but Four leaped onto a speeding HC, blasting past her. “You make me want to vom.”
“Woooo. Let’s go bust some heads. Go, go, go,” screamed Four. Inside the HC were Fallite bombs ready to go. “Get pumped!”
Another HC approached Eight. It braked, and she stepped in after collapsing her scissors.
Invasions were happening at the other chains of the Burning Bell. Thousands of Dowsers banded together, and amazingly, their numbers were growing as those tired of God’s reign joined those who wished to smother the flame of the Burning Bell.
***
Bernard and Tricia had reached touching distance of their designated chain, along with a grand group of Dowsers. The bombs were being planted, and the group was ready, being the first to be in position.
“What do you want to do after all this?” Tricia asked her husband. “Open the store back up? Move on to something else?”
“I never planned past this point, to be honest. Many years ago, I just assumed I would die on the battlefield. I was content with that, too. Then I had to be a moron and start dating a waitress who sucked at remembering my order.” He stared out at the miles of waste they laid.
“You’re not allowed to die.” Tricia waved her finger. “I won’t forgive you if you do.”
“How unfortunate. Speaking of unfortunate.” Bernard stood and drew his revolvers. “Seems you have competition now.”
An Ascended was in the sky, and thousands of Chimes closed in below her. The Chimes themselves were a problem, but plausible to hold off with their injured crew. But with an Ascended leading the charge, they had no chance, especially with the Ascended being Zaqiel.
“Wish we could use the bombs to wipe them, but we must get the signal before we blow them,” said a Dowser.
“They might just use ranged attacks, anyways,” another Dowser suggested.
“We’ll have to hold them off. You can get your revenge,” Tricia added. She drew her whip and walked toward the army. “Let’s test the limits of my whip,” she announced while spinning it around.
Bernard grabbed Tricia, kissed her hard with surprise, and said, “I’ll be back for you both.” He pinched the side of her neck and caught the limp Tricia. He placed her in an HC and ordered, “Watch over her, and I’ll be in your debt.”
“Uh. Ok, sir,” a female Dowser saluted.
Bernard emptied his revolvers and replaced the bullets with a blue glow with ones with a red aura. Along with that swap, he took Tricia’s crimson hip knife. This was the only red Fallite they had, aside from the bombs, and Bernard would fight with it till his veins were empty.
“Don’t follow; I’m going alone.”