Gillian screamed as another contraction rippled through her. There was, Harold decided, no more terrifying sound than a vampire's screams of pain. If God had had any hand in his birth, Harold would have thanked Him for not making him a woman.
He flung open the bedroom door. "More bags of blood!" he said, "and keep tem coming."
Inside again he looked into Azazel's face. The arch demon was calm to the point of meditation; a sharp contrast to Gillian who was quite literally sweating blood. "Will she be all right?" he asked.
Azazel opened golden eyes, a vanity he was recently enamoured of. "I expect so," he said. "If not, I'll have at least learned a little more about supernatural genetics."