Page 4 of Phoenix Chosen 3
The twins help him from the bed and move him to a chair with a half-moon cut out from the seat. Xanthe places three lit beeswax candles on the floor in front of Tyler, then a stone bowl of water into which she drops a ball of desiccated herbs.
“What is this, a sacrifice?” Tyler groans. “I hate this!”
“These talismans will help with the pain,” Xanthe says.
He shoots me a look of furious disbelief. “Talismans? I need a goddamntailonoll, not a talisman.”
I can do nothing but shrug. This is far beyond my realm of knowledge.
“Deep breaths, Tyler,” Zona says. “Put your hands here. Hold tight. Breathe, and push!”
Tyler grips the armrests of the chair and strains. “Oh myGod!”
Xanthos is shaking a bundle of wildflowers around Tyler’s head. Xanthe lights more incense and rings a bell next to a littleshrine to the god of omega birth. Tyler wails in pain. This is chaos.
I move to his side and quickly glance through the slits in the blinds. The street is clear, but I still fear that we are being pursued.
Zona is looking at me. She has seen me checking the window, but before she can ask what I’m so worried about, Tyler interrupts with another anguished wail. I grab his hand, and he nearly cracks my bones with his grip.
“HNNNNGGG!” His eyes look like they might burst out of his skull.
“Maybe…I can…give you a hand rub,” I grunt, trying to pry loose from his death grip.
I can’t. He has me locked down like an enraged octopus.
“NO!” he grunts. “Goddamit! Oh, goddamit, you’re a real piece of shit, you know that?”
“I know,” I say encouragingly. “I truly am. And you’re doingwonderfully.”
Xanthos spreads the bundle of wildflowers around the birthing stool. Xanthe begins to chant something in a low purring voice. Zona is crouched in front of the stool, eyes fixed on Tyler.
Tyler’s golden hair hangs in dark streaks across his forehead, and I use my free hand to brush the clinging locks away. His eyes are squeezed tight, his teeth bared in mighty effort. Thestrength he’s summoning to endure this is beyond anything I can imagine.
“Fuck this, fuck this, fuck this,” Tyler strains out.
Zona swats my leg. “If you’re going to be here, the least you can do is make yourself useful.”
“Yes,thank you,” I say. “Tell me what to do.”
“Be Tyler’s breath. Guide him, keep him steady.”
“I can do this,” I say.
Tyler breathes with me, drawing in slow, measured inhales. The pain, which had only subsided for a few minutes, has returned with a renewed intensity. Zona has returned to her work table to mix up some new herbal concoction, while the twins continuously resoak the strips of cloth in the warm oil and replace them on Tyler’s swollen belly.
“Breathe with me,” I tell Tyler.
“I don’t want to,” he grunts.
“You have to breathe. One… two…”
“God fucking dammit, Kalistratos, I know how to breathe!”
“One… two…” I repeat slowly. I’m trying my best to be helpful.
Xanthos suddenly stands, his tail pricked up in surprise. “Zona,” he says, and gestures for her to come over.
Zona crouches to take a look at Tyler beneath the birthing chair.