Hello everyone. I was pretty busy the last couple of months (grad school is a nightmare), so thank you for your patience. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!

Margaret rubbed her belly and relaxed into the rocking chair, relishing the relative peace of the countryside.

"Come on, Thomas. I'm sure you'll get the hang of it!" Malcolm said, pressing yet another stone into Thomas' hand.

"Uuuuugh!" Thomas groaned, and instead of skipping the rock across the lake, he full-on threw the stone in a wide arc, creating a loud splash as it crashed into the water.

As Margaret said, it was a relative peace.

Margaret smiled as she saw Malcolm laugh off Thomas' frustration with the rock. Her husband grabbed more pebbles from the ground around them with glee, though he did take the time to ruffle Thomas' long hair. Her son batted the hand away and combed his hair with his fingers. Thomas and Malcolm were opposites when it came to the outdoors, with Malcolm being an experienced outdoorsman and Thomas wanting nothing more than to go inside and relax with one of Margaret's face creams that he had taken a liking to. Still, it pleased her to see them enjoying the early fall months. The sun was close to setting, and though the nights were beginning to bring frigid winds, the days were still cool enough for them to spend the days outside.

Margaret kept rubbing her belly as she watched Thomas continually fail to skip a rock. Her son often got frustrated with himself when a skill didn't come easily to him, but it was the calmest she had seen him in months. They were still being chased by half a dozen groups, and though Margaret had the firepower to hold them off, things had gotten a bit more complicated as of six months ago. It wasn't as if Margaret's magic had dulled with her second pregnancy, but with vampires, fae, wizards, and more hunting them, Malcolm had suggested renting a lakeside cabin in order to stay off the grid for a while. And as Margaret rocked herself on their cabin's front porch, she had to admit that it was a wise idea.

Another splash echoed in Margaret's ears. Thomas had crossed his arms in frustration at the lake's edge, and from his trembling shoulders, Margaret deduced that Malcolm was holding in his laughter.

"You're getting close!" Her husband cheered. "And you've got a decent arm on you. Maybe one day I'll teach you how to throw a baseball."

Thomas pffted. "You can't even teach me how to throw a rock right."

"Wanna bet?" Malcolm asked, launching his arm behind him and throwing a stone across the water. It skipped seven times before finally sinking into the lake. With a contented smile, Malcolm held out another stone to Thomas. "I bet you'll be able to make eight skips before your sibling's born."

Thomas narrowed his eyes at the stone. After a moment, he picked it up and swung his arm in a wide arc. The stone flew off way to the left, but instead of immediately sinking, the rock skipped once before plopping into the water.

"Mom! Did you see that!" Thomas yelled, his hair flying all around him as he jumped in celebration. "I made it skip!"

"That you did," Margaret called back. Using the chair to steady herself and her heavy belly, she got out of the rocking chair. "It was very impressive. Looks like Malcolm is a good teacher, don't you think?"

Thomas' face morphed into a scowl. Margaret looked at her husband, and two of them burst into laughter. Thomas merely grabbed another stone in response and launched it at the lake again. This one didn't skip even once, but now he was determined, so he picked up another rock and tried again.

Margaret made her way down the small steps. Malcolm rushed over to help her down, grabbing her hand to keep her steady. "While I appreciate the kind gesture," Margaret said, "you do know that I am perfectly capable of walking down the stairs by myself, do you not?"

"I do," Malcolm said, though Margaret heard no apology in his words. "Still, you're my wife, and you are carrying my child. Isn't it alright for me to pamper you just this once?"

Margaret hummed. "I suppose getting pampered isn't so bad," she said.

"Good." Malcolm smiled down at her and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand.

"Gross!" Thomas yelled from the lake's edge.

Margaret and her husband laughed once again, but as Thomas turned his attention back to the lake, Margaret felt something tingle in her head.

Margaret looked over her shoulder toward the woods that surrounded their little cabin. There was nothing physically different about them, with the tall trees slowly exchanging their green leaves for the red, orange, and brown colors of fall, but there was something that tugged at the edge of Margaret's mind. It was something that she felt deep in her chest, in a way that couldn't be fully described without experiencing. It was like an invisible rope was tugging within her, luring her into the area just beyond her vision.

"Your friend?" Malcolm asked. Margaret turned back to face him. His face was neutral, but his eyes remained fixed on the woods. It was only when Margaret squeezed his hand that Malcolm looked at her, and upon seeing her, his face softened into a small smile. "Go. I'll keep an eye on Thomas."

After giving one final kiss to Margaret's hand, Malcolm sauntered back toward the lake. "You're swinging too hard. You need to add some lift into it."

Thomas rolled his eyes at Malcolm and asked, "How am I supposed to add 'lift' to a rock ?"

Margaret smiled to herself as she left her boys by the lake. Mindful of her large stomach, she ambled her way through the woods. Crackling leaves crunched beneath her sandals as she walked, the trees rustled alongside a faint breeze, and a light growl hummed to Margaret's right.

Margaret followed the familiar sound. Watching out for any roots that might trip her, she made her way through the maze of brown and orange trees. The growl grew louder, and as Margaret stepped around a particularly large American Basswood, she found herself looking upon a large clearing. Red leaves dotted the area around a single empty bench that had been carved out of fallen branches. On those leaves was a pack of hounds, their eyes shining like fire, eyeing Margaret as she stepped out into the clearing.

The bench was empty when Margaret had arrived. But as Margaret strolled her way towards it, a figure appeared. It happened faster than a blink of an eye, and where there used to be nothing but air, there was now a tall woman with hair as red as her dogs' eyes. She even had her legs crossed in a casual manner, as if she had been waiting for a long time.

"I didn't expect you to show up," Margaret said.

"Good," the Leanansidhe replied. "It would be a shame if I ever became predictable."

Margaret felt a grin spread across her face as the Leanansidhe stood up to embrace her. "It's good to see you, Lea," she said to her friend. Lea held her tightly, yet she was mindful of Margaret's pregnant belly.

"I concur." Lea broke the embrace and held Margaret out at arm's length. Looking into Margaret's eyes, a playful glint spread across her face. "Tell me, how fares Margaret LeFay- Dresden ?"

"Quite well," Margaret said, sliding down onto the wooden bench. She mentally cursed herself for noting how much relief it brought to her feet. "Malcolm took your advice. He's been taking self-defense lessons from every martial arts studio we come across. It's endearing, but the smell . Never in my life have I been so thankful for showers."

"It is the least he can do for my dear Margaret." Lea took a seat next to Margaret. The sidhe's dark green trench coat stood out against the sandy brown wood, and Margaret noted that it was a more modest choice in clothing for Lea. And as Margaret adjusted her own oversized blue coat over her belly, she couldn't decide whether Lea was being considerate toward Margaret or smug about her own non-pregnant state.

"You see," Margaret said, "after you threatened my husband with torture and mortal harm on our wedding night, he was quite keen on taking your words to heart."

"You are a friend of mine," Lea said, waving off a dog that had stepped forward to check on her. "It is only natural that I care for your safety. Now tell me, have you improved your illusion magic, or do my dogs smell faint traces of gunpowder?"

"Malcolm has also found his fair share of gun ranges." Margaret sighed. "It is not my preferred weapon, but he has no magic to speak of, so I should be thankful for the modern invention that is the Glock."

Lea laughed. It rang out like chimes, but that was to be expected. As a member of the sidhe, Lea possessed abilities far beyond Margaret's reach, all while being inhumanly beautiful in both body and voice. "I can imagine that he is an interesting one to be with. I can also see why you wished to have a child with him." Lea's eyes fell sharply onto Margaret's stomach. "May I?"

"Of course," Margaret said. She slowly pulled back her oversized coat to reveal her belly. Margaret had only just reached the third trimester, and though she knew from experience how large it was going to get, this baby already felt heavier than Thomas was at this stage.

Lea slowly ran a single hand over the stomach. With how careful she was being, Margaret suddenly remembered that this was Lea's first time seeing her pregnant. Margaret was under Lord Raith's command when she had been pregnant with Thomas, and there was no way for her to get in touch with Lea, much less have her dearest friend come to visit her. Now Lea seemed to be making up for lost time, smiling as her fingers traced the long curve of Margaret's stomach.

"This little one will change things," Lea whispered.

Margaret smiled. "I know."

"Oh, do you?" Lea's eyes rose to meet hers.

A warning bell sounded off in Margaret's head. "Lea, you are going to tell me what you mean by that. Right now."

"Now why would I mean anything by it?" Lea said. Margaret sat up sharply, making Lea's hand fall away from her stomach. Her friend watched her curiously, and even the pack of dogs that surrounded them perked up in attention.

"Because I know you, and when you say cryptic things like that, it usually means something dangerous."

"Mar—"

"I'm serious." Margaret leveled her gaze. "I know how powerful you are, Lea. Of that, I have no doubt. So when I am ordering you to tell me what you truly mean with your words, I know the risks. But the risk of angering you is far less dangerous than any risk that could bring harm to my family."

Lea's eyes were inscrutable. Margaret watched for any movement, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw Lea's hounds began to pace around them.

"So I will ask you again, and this time more clearly," Margaret said. "What does it matter that I know my next child will change things?"

For a minute, there was nothing to be heard except the rising wind. Leaves flitted on the ground beneath them, the hounds grew still, and Lea's eyes flickered between emotions. When she finally spoke again, the only thing Margaret could see in her eyes was sadness. "My dear Margaret, did you think this knowledge came freely?"

Margaret's heart beat hard in her chest, almost to the point of pain. "How do I know this?" She asked with a strained voice.

"I do not know," Lea said.

"You lie."

"I cannot." Lea took in a steadying breath before continuing. "Whatever forces are at play here, they are beyond my understanding. But there is one thing I do know."

Heat rose up Margaret's throat. "You chose this moment to toy with me?"

"No, Margaret." Lea turned slightly on the bench, facing Margaret fully. "Because this is the truth. I know you . I know how strong you are, but I also understand the strength of the White Court. As powerful as you are, there is no possible way you could have left that place without some external forces helping you.

"This knowledge, this certainty about your second child," Lea whispered. "It was this knowledge that gave you the strength to leave Raith, was it not?"

Margaret's mind flashed back to that last week in the mansion. It had taken every sliver of strength, every fiber of her being to notice that something was wrong. There was something she needed to do, and she had to get out. She remembered her quiet pleas to Lara Raith. For once in her life, she had voluntarily begged someone for help, and what was even more surprising is that Lara gave it to her.

Margaret remembered waking Thomas in the middle of the night. She had taken him to the hidden alcove beside Lara Raith's chambers, and she forced themselves to wait for Lord Raith to step in. They waited until he unfurled his power, brought Lara close to him, and began to compel his daughter in the worst way imaginable.

Thomas watched. And as Lord Raith settled Lara down onto her bed, Margaret could only watch as Thomas saw his sister cry.

She had forced Thomas to see it until it was too dangerous to stay any longer. It had taken every bit of mental willpower to flee the house, to run through the estate until they were finally out of the White Court's sight. To this day, it was the hardest thing she had ever done. Her mind and body felt strained under the weight of Raith's compulsion, and every step she made to defy him caused indescribable agony to set her veins on fire. It hurt. It hurt so much. But that knowledge, the knowledge that she still had something to do, was Margaret's crutch as she crawled away from the man who had caused her pain beyond words.

"Yes," Margaret's voice ground out. "But if these 'forces', as you call them, were meant for me to escape Raith, then why did they also give me the strength to leave with my son?"

"I can only guess at that," Lea said.

"Then guess."

"Always so impatient." Lea shook her hair, but the sadness in her eyes remained. "But if you must know, my guess is that you leaving with your son was an alternate scenario. Whatever force is out there that wanted you to leave the Raith mansion, find Malcolm Dresden, and give birth to this child, I believe that your extraction was their only goal. Thomas escaping with you, that was just a possibility that came to happen."

"And if it hadn't, my son would still be in the clutches of his father?" Margaret's hands instinctively circled her belly. "If that is the case, then I would like to see that 'force' rotting in hell."

Lea raised a single red eyebrow. "And if that force is destiny?"

"Then destiny can get blasted straight into Hell's Bells."

And of all the things Lea could've done, she laughed. "Oh, Margaret. It brings me joy to see you still have so much fire in you. It's one of my favorite things about my dear friend."

Margaret wished she could have laughed with her. "This knowledge comes with a price, doesn't it?" She asked.

Lea schooled her face into a neutral expression once more. "And I'm afraid you already know what it is," Lea said, soft and quick.

Margaret held the burning tears behind her eyes. "Do you know when?"

"I can find out," Lea said, and Margaret was grateful for the familiar glint of smugness that colored her voice. " If you request it of me"

Margaret shook her head. "I have other requests in mind."

Lea's eyes fell on Margaret's stomach. "For the baby?"

"Yes."

"And…" Lea met Margaret's eyes. "For the boy?"

Margaret nodded.

Lea sat up straighter. "I've warned you. Several times. The moment your father lays eyes on that boy is the moment a meteor will strike him down."

"Perhaps," Margaret agreed. "Unless you do something for me. Half of the spell has already been planted."

"And I shall plant the other half?" The fallen leaves rustled around them as Lea processed the information. "You do realize what you are requesting of me?"

Now it was Margaret's turn to laugh. Her laugh was far from melodic, but it came out loud and strong. "The Leanansidhe, afraid of placing a spell in an old wizard's head. And here I was thinking of naming you my baby's godmother."

As Margaret said the last word, Lea's eyes lit up. The Leanansidhe leaned forward, and as gently as she had done so before, she placed a hand on Margaret's stomach. "My dear Margaret, if you intend to make me this precious one's godmother, then you should know that there is little I fear."

Margaret smirked. "Prove it."