The Mammoth Book Of Vampire Stories Written By Women

" No doctor," Sondra hissed. The refusal ended in a scream as agony rippled through her uterus, as if the child inside were trying to tear its way through the prison of tissue and mother's blood. Had it heard the midwife's words and realized the danger of prolonging her agony? "It's coming now!" she screamed and pushed, bore down as she had never done before to expel the thing within her body that was trying to kill her .

" I see it — push again!" The midwife's hands were warm and wet with Sondra's blood and they pried at her ravaged flesh for a moment, then locked around something huge and painful. "I've got the head. Come on, Sondra — if you don't keep pushing you'll kill it and yourself besides !"

Sondra screamed again and dug into the sides of the mattress with her fingernails, felt the decrepit fabric tear at the same time as the child shot from her body with a wave of pain that nearly made her lose consciousness. Dear God, she thought disjointedly as she fought to find her breath, why hadn't the mound of her stomach grown smaller? Was it afterbirth — could the fruits of her coupling have filled her with that much dark debris?

She was still panting from Mallory's birth when deep within her belly the fire began anew, making her writhe on the soaked sheets and open her mouth in a scream too huge to be heard. The midwife was there in an instant, her large, slick hands working at Sondra's belly, kneading and pressing.

"Twins!" she declared. "Hold on, girl there's another one coming!"

Sondra's wail found substance as a second child forced its way free. Something deep inside her relaxed and let her breathe, disregarded the short, puny cramps that followed as the midwife worked her stomach to get Sondra's body to eject the bloody afterbirth. "What?" Sondra finally managed, sucking in welcome air as she fought to sit up. "W-what are they?"

"Girls," the midwife said, turning back to the changing table. "Just as healthy as can be, too. A little over six-and-a-half pounds each — big for twins." Despite her assurances, the black woman's voice was reserved, puzzled. Exhausted, Sondra listened to the splash of water from the basin as the midwife expertly sponged down the infants, then wrapped them in receiving blankets.

"Can I see?"

"Here you go. One for each arm."

Warmth settled on either side of her and Sondra tucked her chin to her chest for a glimpse of her babies. Sleeping already, come into the world without so much as a whimper; tiny fingers bunched into loose fists, delicate lips still bluish-purple but pinkening by the second. Their heads were crowned with thick, dark hair above perfect eyebrows and petite, titled noses; as she gazed at them, the second one — Meleena — spread her heart-shaped mouth in a barely discernible yawn .

Sondra jerked and both babies opened their eyes and regarded her solemnly. "What was that?" she asked. Her voice was shaking.

For a moment the midwife said nothing, then the big woman folded her hands in front of her as though she were trying to pray unobtrusively. "Something I've never seen on a newborn," she said at last. "Teeth."

And now Sondra faced a new danger: Walters . There was something about him that reminded her of the twins' father, an elusive call to forbidden sexuality that she'd thought only one man, one creature , possessed.

"Open your legs."

"No!"

"Bear my children."

She gasped when someone touched her arm, then realized it was McShaw. "Are you all right, Ms Underwood? You don't look like you feel very well."

"I'm f-fine," Sondra stammered. "Tired, that's all. It's hard to get a good night's sleep with two crying babies." She clamped her lips shut, abruptly afraid she was whining. It was another lie anyway; the twins never cried. Her sleep was broken by the stealthy creaking of the stairs in the hallway outside the apartment, a thousand phantom shadows in the corners of the dark rooms, the hushed rasp of steel fingernails along the bottom of the too-flimsy front door.

Walters nodded sympathetically and for a moment she had the absurd notion that he could read her mind. "Of course," he said. "We understand."

Sondra bit back a sharp remark and they both stood, as if some invisible puppet master had pulled the "up" strings simultaneously. She found herself watching the subtle movement of muscles beneath the taut fabric of Walters's uniform, then flushed when her gaze travelled to his face and she realized he was watching her watch him. For the first time she noticed that his eyes were a strange yellowish colour unlike anything she'd ever seen, the stare of a lion surveying its prey.

"If you see him again, you call 911," McShaw said. "Plus we'll put your building down for a few extra drive-bys every shift, try to make the squad cars more visible. Until you give us something more concrete, that's about all we can do. I'm sorry." The chunkier cop looked down at his clipboard and frowned. "It doesn't seem like he's ever got close enough for you to get a solid description."