Saved and SAINTified (63 page)

“Your dad was right
,” Jagger agreed. “I know about that first hand. It’s just our way, man. Not to say things always turn out the way we want; they sure as hell don’t, but we more times than not seem to have access to information that benefits us.”

“
Yeah, I’m thankful. Once Isis is born, Nizsm is going to know and I’m sure it’s not going to be pretty.” Saint tightened the towel around his waist and began to walk out of the kitchen, with Lawrence and Jagger close behind him. He paused and gave the men a serious look. “I need to get back upstairs. Thanks again, guys.”

“No problem.”
Lawrence smiled faintly.

All three of them knew that the real war would be beginning as soon as
Isis took her first breath outside of the womb ... and they’d better be ready.

****

Several moments later...

“Ooooooh!”
Xenia clutched the side of the tub, her legs splashing about frantically.

Saint
burst through the bathroom door and threw his towel abruptly on the floor. Beset yelped and covered her mouth as he jumped back in the tub behind Xenia.

“Sorry, Beset. I heard
Xenia scream and didn’t even think about it,” he explained as he wrapped his arms around his wife and caressed her earlobe. “It’s okay, baby, you’re doing good...,” he assured as he layered the side of her neck with gentle kisses. From the warmth of the tub, he guessed that Beset had just refreshed the water. It felt good against his skin, and Xenia would feel better once the heat wrapped itself around her goosebump covered flesh. She shivered, and at times seemed about to lose consciousness. Her eyes rolled from the pain.

“Just breath
e, baby ... keep breathing.”

“
Saint, you’re back just in time. I want Xenia to start pushing. I just checked here. She is ten centimeters dilated now.”

Saint
grinned. “Wow, that was quick, baby.”

He kissed the top of her head
, noticing she was being unusually quiet now. He knew she was trying with all of her might to talk herself into believing she would not die from the agony she was in.

She’s a little soldier
. Damn, and we as men try to act like women are weak. Nah, it takes a strong person to have a baby, to bring a life into the world.

“Yes, she progressed quickly. Alright
Xenia, would you be more comfortable on all fours?”

Xenia
nodded, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. Saint sat back, giving her room to get on her knees. Then he stood, causing Beset to gasp again and blush.

“Okay
.” Beset’s voice shook.

Saint
no longer cared if she saw his dick or not. All he cared about was his daughter being born safe and his wife out of her pain as soon as possible.

“
Ah, yes...” She’d obviously lost her train of thought.

Saint
snatched a soaking towel from the side of the tub and wrapped it around himself, having second thoughts about his nonchalance regarding his nudeness. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and modesty was the least of his worries, but he also understood that he needed to at least attempt showing some semblance of respect toward the poor woman.

“Continue on, Beset
,” he said, and redirected his attention to Xenia.

“Okay
Xenia.” Beset moved her hand past Xenia’s stomach. “Lean a bit toward me ... yes, that’s good.” Beset placed her hand over Xenia’s vagina. “I can feel what is happening but I should probably be where your husband is. Saint, let me change places with you, please.”

Saint
nodded and moved around to the front of the large, garden tub. Kneeling down in front of Xenia, he stroked her chin. Beset removed her shoes and stood in the water, behind Xenia.

“I want you to
push. I want you to do what is natural, but stop when I say stop. You understand?” Beset instructed.

Xenia
nodded.

“Alright, push,
Xenia...”

Saint
moved to the side and watched Xenia push with all of her might. A sad whimper escaped her lips as she looked at him with that helpless gaze. He gently rubbed her shoulders.

“Good job, baby.”

This went on several more times.

“Okay, that last contraction and push was very good,
Xenia. I can feel the top of her head even better now.” Beset’s exuberance burst through, on full display.

Saint’s
heart beat like rabbit feet thumping against his chest. Xenia kept her head downward toward the water, her body vibrating as she bore down once again. “Very good,” Beset encouraged. “I see her head well now.”

Saint
’s desire to not miss the experience hit a fever pitch. He got out of the water and knelt before the tub, to the side of his wife. He reached past Xenia’s protruding stomach until his fingertips touched the silkiness of the wet, distended crown of his daughter. Overcome with feeling, his eyes began to blur. He couldn’t speak. A tear rolled down his face.

A nearby candle that Beset had lit earlier to aid in relaxation began to flicker wildly, the flame doing an enchanted dance in colors of hot crimson, citrusy yellow and warm terra. It moved about as if a gust of wind burst past, only
there was no change in temperature, nor was there an air source.

“
Another push now,” Beset requested, this time with a bit more authority in her voice.

Saint
looked at the old woman’s face. Her previously humble, at times skittish, and earnest glow transformed into a look of courage and fierceness. Now that her freedom was literally at her fingertips, the stress and age lines on her face seemed to lesson right before his eyes.

Xenia
bore down once more.

“Ouuuuu! Oh God!”
She clutched the edges of the tub, her body heaving as she bare-knuckled the side. Saint leaned over her, comforting her as he hugged her loosely.

“You’ve got this, sweetie. S
he’s almost here.” He reached back down underneath her, biting his bottom lip as he briefly strained. A smile started in his gut as he gently pressed his forehead along her slick back—a secret smile he kept hidden for his own special collection of prized moments. His fingertips lightly grazed his princess’ slippery hair.

“
Xenia, her head is out, all of it.” Beset grunted as she reached down and began to turn the baby slightly. “We get her shoulders out, and the rest of the body will be easy.”

The candle flickered once again, illuminating the slight ripples of the water.
Xenia bore down again, this time screaming so loudly, Saint hitched his breath and clutched her to him, trying to stifle her discomfort.

“
Xenia! You did it!” Beset smiled, completely overjoyed as she pulled the baby and the umbilical cord from Xenia’s birth canal.

Xenia
fell back, the water splashing as she slid to the side, fatigued. Beset held firm to the caterwauling newborn. Saint reached into the blood tinged water and quickly grabbed his shivering wife, holding her close to his beating heart, keeping her head against his chest as she exhaustedly lay against him. Saint looked over her shoulder, watching Beset immediately begun to suction the baby’s nostrils and mouth.

“Look at her, look what
we made
, baby!” Saint’s voice cracked as the tears now flowed freely down his face. “She’s so beautiful!”

Saint
waited anxiously to cut the cord and hold his new child, but knew Xenia first needed to care for and bond with her.

The baby
glowed. From the top of her jet black wavy hair down to her bronze feet, she shined like new shoes. Her lips were full like her mother’s. She pouted and whimpered before breaking into a crying frenzy. Powerful lungs carried over the airwaves in a stereo-induced panic. The newborn wake-up world song that delighted doctors and parents once it left a tiny angel’s mouth sang the praises of a new dawn. Isis cried and wiggled in Beset’s grasp. Beset stood and placed the baby on Xenia’s bared breasts and his wife immediately grasped her, a wail escaping her mouth—one of complete happiness, one that only a mother would understand.  Beset worked feverishly to let out the water, then stitched Xenia’s small tear.

Saint
read Xenia loud and clear, felt her thoughts—she was open, like a book begging to be read. He was being sucked into the whirlwind, given a glimpse of the overpowering love of a devoted mother to her child.

When he heard his Goddess cry out, he understood what it was.

It was the sound of falling madly in love a million times ten. It was the epitome of love at first sight. The soundtrack to coming a long way, and receiving a blessing that beat all. The cry of a mother who hid her worry from the world, because all she knew with certainty was that she had to make sure that baby saw the light of day.

A
nd nobody, not Saint, Beset, the sun or moon, and sure as hell not Nizsm, was going to stop her from doing what she needed to do—and that was to ensure the safe delivery of this precious angel into the world.

****

Saint ensured Xenia was fine, then quickly dressed and made his way through the house. Like a blur of light, he raced passed the crowd in his living room, ignoring the calls of his name and comments of congratulations. He was on a mission. He went to every corner of the house, in a daze, chanting and praying before going into the first floor bathroom.

Reaching for a bandage, he wrapped up his slashed finger to stop the blood flow. He wasn’t sure what was going on, what made him do it, but he’d cut himself, and it needed to be done. And not a moment too soon. He never envisioned himself as a cutter in times of stress, but it felt so good. He was relieved and needed it now more than ever. Taking a deep breath, he retraced his steps to his Queen and new baby.

****

“Well, everyone is gone now
,” Saint said from the bedroom doorway.

He yawned.
Beset disappeared down the hall into the guest room, her robe swinging with each tired step, and closed the door softly behind her. It had been a long day. Xenia and Saint barely had a chance to hold their precious newborn. Once the doctor came and checked her over, giving the thumbs up for the successful home birth and Isis’ health, it became a mad house. The grand home became cramped with family and friends. It was as if Isis’ birth was town-hall news. The Aknaten estate burst with people washing their hands in the first floor half bath, and then waiting impatiently to see and hold the new baby. Gifts and edible goodies were piled high in the living room and kitchen, wrapped in shiny pink, gold and silver paper. Wine flowed freely, and laughter and cooing filled the rooms.

Saint
laughed at the sight of Hassani and Dakarai, sniffing around her, not sure what to make of her. Though they’d been sufficiently warned by Saint and Xenia of the pending arrival, their faces showed mass confusion with a sprinkling of hysteria. The two misfits whispered amongst themselves as they took inventory of the latest member of their troop.

Dakarai was the first to break his silence, after several moments of deliberation. His intrigue
seemed to surprise Xenia. As she held Isis close in bed, the tiny bundle swaddled tightly in soft yellow fabric, he approached her, stood on his tippy toes, and kissed his sister’s flushed cheek as she slept. Hassani took a couple more hours to warm up, but when he did, he immediately told everyone within ear shot that he had a baby sister ... and he said it proudly, his little chest puffed out as if a giant ‘S’ for superman was scribed across it in bright red. The mood was electric—vibrant, rich and living. It breathed, lived off of pure love. Those inhaled and exhaled breaths laden with love would calm the most savage of beasts ... except one.

Saint
could feel Nizsm’s spastic, demonic energy. Somewhere far into the thick and hazy tunnel many countries over, an Egyptian man stood in his home and tried to tear the heavens up with threats of hellacious revenge. He swore and gnashed his teeth, and told God the hell with him. He went into back to back violent rages, like a hysterical child having a fit, vowing retribution. Saint heard the message loud and clear, and he psychically watched Nizsm call in the Oracle to his chambers, and beheaded him right there on the spot—no questions asked. Nizsm now required retaliation, not just power.

No one double crossed him and lived to tell the tale. What was taken from him, he’d make sure to take from
Saint. And things weren’t so black and white. Nizsm’s power over Egypt wasn’t suddenly banished. According to the laws, he was to use the first year of Isis’ life as transitional time from one family to another. But none of that would happen. Not now, not ever. Since Nizsm could not create the child, nor keep power from having her cease to exist, he’d have to settle for the rotten nectar of vengeance and drink from a broken cup of stolen dominance.

That
, in fact, was his new plan. There would be no Princess to help
anyone
; he’d see to it. Saint’s father made certain that amongst many other nuisances, he’d be aware of the grave possibility of all of these things coming to fruition. Nizsm returned in full psychic view, like a reoccurring nightmare with no end in sight.  Saint understood this to the depths of full comprehension. Just as he knew the reality deep inside—the
real
war would soon begin.