Chapter 66

Abigail gaped at Malcolm, looking down at her stomach and then back up at Mark. "But…why didn't you say that when you were explaining my powers in the first place?!"

Hormones were already flaring up. "My dear, I didn't know much about her powers, honestly. That was the first I'd seen them, but now seeing you here, pregnant, with those same powers, I'm convinced getting my wife pregnant is what ultimately gave her powers in the first place."

"What the hell? Did all of your children have super sperm or super vaginas?"

Malcolm laughed, shrugging, and rose to his feet again. "Maybe we do, who knows?"

Malcolm was way too chipper, it was actually grating on his nerves. "I'm sure she finds that very reassuring." He said flatly, walking over to take Abigail's hand, gently squeezing. "My powers aren't mine naturally, they were given to me." Taker reminded with a frown. "Or does that not matter?" Because he hadn't had a magical bone in his body until Glen crammed him chock-full of the stuff. Passing magic through sex…was not all right. He began laughing though. "Magical STDs…" OH, that was hilarious, he was going to cry from laughing.

"Mark, you may not want to believe this, but you WERE born of magical blood. You are part of the great Calaway bloodline, my son, you have my magical blood running through your veins. If you didn't, Glen would not have been able to pass his magic onto you. Some part of you, no matter how little, accepted the magic." Malcolm explained gently but firmly, wanting his son to understand he WAS born with magic in his body; he just never wanted to accept it the way Glen had.

"So that means…Hope…" Abigail smiled, hoping Mark liked the name because that's what they were naming the baby, if she was indeed a girl. "She will have magic in her blood as well and can become a sorcerer one day?"

"A sorceress, yes, but only if she embraces it the way Glen did. Mark is…stubborn, if you haven't noticed. He relies on science and facts instead of myths, legends, and magic." Malcolm was happy his bloodline would not die with Mark due to them having a child of their own. However, that rose another topic. "Will the plan change for tomorrow?"

"No. I will be used as bait. My vision told me all I needed to know and we are going to win tomorrow and go home."

"Good, good." Malcolm's head bobbed up and down, a smile over his face. "Hopefully, my new granddaughter won't shun her magic the way- Hey!"

Taker had quite enough. He had lifted Malcolm, father or not, by the back of his collar and was carting him out of the tent, depositing him in the grass. "Thank you for your services and goodnight Dad." He grumbled flatly.

"Magic isn't a sin, Mark."

"It is when people like you use it to enable those who would do massive amounts of damage to the world, Malcolm."

"Would YOU let YOUR family die at the hands of a madman? Or would you save them, knowing you could?"

"We both already know the answer to that." He disappeared back into the tent. "Hope, hmm?" It was a suitable, apt name, he liked it.

"Mark…" Abigail groaned, immediately grabbing the bucket and started hurling all over again, hoping Malcolm hadn't gone back to his tent yet. "Get him back in here! I have to ask him something important, damn it!" More hurling.

Of course, Malcolm hadn't left yet. He figured the mother-to-be had a few more questions for him and sauntered back into the tent, holding his hand up. "I'll freeze you, boy, don't tempt me." His eyes held warning before softening at the sight of Abigail. "What do you need, my dear?"

"Tomorrow, when I'm strung up or whatever. I need you to…is there any way to…" More hurling ensued. There was nothing left in her body, damn it! "Can you cast a damn spell that prevents me from feeling nauseous so I don't hurl all over the place while I'm up there?"

"No, but I can brew something up for you. Give me a couple of hours to whip it up and I'll be back. Mark, get her some crackers if we've got any here." He knew that was one of the foods they had brought with and the salt would help calm her stomach. "Ginger ale too, if we have it." If not, she was pretty much sunk, but the potion he'd brew would at least get rid of nausea for a time.

"Thank you…"

"You do realize Matt brought half the medical wing here, right?" Taker remarked point-blank, contemplating seeing his Dad have an accident tomorrow after he served his purpose. "Including anti-nausea medicines that would be safe for you to take." Weren't they tempting fate enough with all their reliance on magic? "I'm getting Matt… I'm more worried about you being dehydrated than anything else." She wasn't keeping liquids down, they were all in that bucket. An IV would fix that quickly, it wasn't the first time the Hardy's had had to do that with an expectant mother.

"But the medicine isn't guaranteed to work and we NEED this to work!" Abigail laid back down, feeling lightheaded, and placed a hand on her stomach, not in the mood to argue with him. "Fine, we'll try the medicine. Malcolm, brew up the potion, just in case it doesn't work, please."

She wasn't taking any chances, not when they had a baby to think about. Abigail knew Mark was concerned as well, but he relied too much on science and medicine, sometimes it just wasn't enough. Scrubbing a hand down her face, she could feel nausea tapering off and suddenly, her stomach let out a huge GROWL.

"What the hell? How can I puke my breakfast, lunch, and dinner up, only to be hungry again?"

"A question I'm sure many women have been asking themselves for centuries, my dear. I will go brew that potion up, to be on the safe side." Winking, Malcolm left to go do his task with an extra kick in his step. He was going to be a grandfather.

Abigail relied way too much on magic. Granted, it was all she really knew and he also recognized, whether she acknowledged it or not, the DOV's influence and opinions about conventional medicine and science had rubbed off on her. Last Taker checked this wasn't some medieval world where magic reigned supreme. They were, however, going to wind up that way if people didn't pull heads out of asses. Sighing, he slipped out of the tent to go get Matt.

It was not a surprise when Abigail took the medicine and it failed, not working at all. After 4 hours of vomiting with 10-minute intervals, Abigail had enough and demanded Mark to go get his father with the potion. Matt had hooked her up to an IV for fluid intake, but that couldn't happen once they arrived at the DOV's location. They had to head out now and she couldn't ride on a bike spewing everywhere. Malcolm was at the tent in record time, helping her down the vile potion. It tasted like sweaty socks…and that was being polite. Abigail gagged on it, but managed to get it down anyway and laid back down, praying it worked.

Sure enough, an hour passed with no signs of vomiting and Abigail felt a lot better, hungry even. The sun had just risen over the horizon as people began taking the tents down, gathering things to make the final trek to war. Abigail nodded when Mark asked if she was fine, the worry in his tone not missed. Sometimes, Mark didn't rely ENOUGH on magic because their offspring did have magic flowing through them and came from a very powerful magic bloodline. However, she kept her thoughts to herself, knowing they would never be able to agree on the subject of magic. At 7 AM, Abigail received another vision and told Mark they had to set up for the confrontation here. This is where the final battle would take place and where it would all come to an end. The DOV was only 2 hours, maybe less, away from them, so it was crunch time.

The fact of the matter was, Malcolm was lucky to be walking around at all, and that was only by Taker's good graces. The only people who actually knew who the hell he had been to Bray Wyatt were those in the 'inner circle', and Susan. However, to the general populace, he was just another POW they had liberated. If the majority of Wonderful had known who the hell Malcolm was, that he was indirectly responsible for the serums and everything else that had allowed Wyatt to do what he did, they would have demanded his head on a pike and Taker wouldn't have blamed them. Almost everyone in Wonderful had lost someone to the DOV. Today, that all ended. He cast a ward around her stomach and returned Abigail's pain, watching as she began crying almost instantly. The bruises and swelling, all the cuts, everything returned and she didn't even have that adrenaline to help her with it.

"Soon darlin', this will be over."

"I know. I'm okay…"

Abigail would go through any amount of pain to make sure Bray and the DOV were destroyed today. The men brought out the huge symbol, wooden, and painted a very dark purple, which looked almost black, if it wasn't for the sun. The sun was the only thing that brought out the purple in the color. Abigail had already slipped into the black starry nightdress, her hair hanging down her back and she could only stare up at the symbol. This was it. She placed a hand on her stomach, took a deep shuddering breath, and walked toward it, her feet bare. There was no reason for shoes.

Stepping up on the platform, Abigail turned and stretched her arms out while each wrist was tied tightly to the symbol, along with her drawn-together feet. Mark also tied her throat back, not hard enough to hurt, but to keep her secure. When it was all said and done, Victoria stepped up to smear some dirt on her neck and arms, the dress short-sleeved, along with what could be seen of her legs. Closing her eyes, Abigail envisioned Bray to pinpoint his location and nodded, looking down at Mark as much as she could since she couldn't move her head.

"They're almost here."

"We're gonna have to mow down some of his men." Steve advised, stepping away from the platform with Taker, after he had nodded to let Abigail know he had heard her. They already knew where Wyatt was coming from; they had scouts out and this wasn't their first rodeo. Just the first time of something this size. The numbers game here was insane.

"He's got himself blocked in, the little weasel."

"Makes sense." Taker admitted, accepting the Kevlar vest, arm pads, and leg pads he was passed, beginning to fasten everything in place. Just because he probably couldn't die, unless his head was cut off, did not mean he couldn't feel pain in general because he could. "He may be invulnerable, but he's still not going to put himself in needless danger."

"We take part of them down, give him a clear view of Abigail, you pull that shit and we'll nail him, boss."

The first part of the battle was gruesome and bloody with each side losing people. Victoria held her own out there, Abigail was impressed, but her eyes kept straying to Mark, trying her best not to look worried. Innocent blood was spilled on the grass, coating it, various body parts strewn everywhere. Heads, arms, legs, feet, hands…hell even fingers. Abigail was really glad this potion of Malcolm's worked because she would've thrown up from all the blood and violence. Once the first line of defense was taken out, with only minimal casualties from Mark's men, it was time to start luring the monster out.

"BRAY WYATT!" Mark's voice had magnified with magic, making sure the little piss ant could hear him and slid his fingers up the length of the symbol, standing right beside it. "I do believe we have something, or someone, that belongs to you, now don't we?" He chuckled darkly, in his full Lord of Darkness regalia, looking like the Devil himself. "Come get her, if you can, BOY. And you'd better come ALONE, or I'll kill her before your very eyes."

On the T symbol with the spikes, tied, was Abigail, her face a mess of bruises and cuts, silent tears falling down her cheeks. It was from the pain, not because she wanted to be with that monster, but she knew the tears would help.

"It's a trap, Sire." Luke said instantly, watching the Undertaker pace that platform through his binoculars.

"Well of course it's a trap, you imbecile." Bray sneered, watching as well. So that was the almighty Undertaker.

He looked a bit like some demon out of Catholic teachings, and he felt his blood boiling. His ice-blue eyes narrowed in on Abigail, his precious Abbie, and his heart clenched painfully. What had they done to his Queen?

"But I know something they don't." His jaw tightened. "I'll go."

"Are you sure?"

Leaning in, he whispered what he wanted Luke to do.

Bray was crafty; he wouldn't come for her without a game plan, but they were as prepared as they were going to get. She saw him coming from a distance, walking up, and could only pray, for not only her sake, but their baby's as well, this plan did not go awry.

"Something's not right, Taker." Steve could smell it in the air, especially when Bray Wyatt came willingly, without any fight, not even attempting a negotiation or trade.

"Be on your guard." Malcolm warned, his eyes narrowing at Bray coming toward them and stood right beside the symbol.

Matt was thinking along the same lines as Steve, his eyes moving around, trying to decipher where Bray had men stationed.

Well, of course something wasn't right, but they had to also remember that Wyatt thought nobody knew about his invulnerability. "Malcolm, disguise yourself." He ordered, watching as his father immediately shifted into Jeff Hardy, mentally facepalming himself. If Wyatt saw Malcolm, all bets were off, the man could put two and two together. "Steve, the blood ready?"

"Right here, boss," Steve said quietly, the containers of preserved, still fresh blood at his feet, hidden from view behind crates. "As soon as that bastard is close enough, you freeze him, we'll douse him, and then Malcolm does that mojo of his and we'll wipe out the rest of them."

That was the game plan.