The Fledgling by AE Jones

name for Michael. But I go by Misha.”
    She giggled.
    “What is so funny?”
    “Misha is a goofy name for a grown man.”
    He chuckled. “Maybe so.”
    “I think I’ll call you by your real name. Mee-ki-yil, right?”
    “Very close. It is pronounced Mee-ky-ale.”
    She frowned at his correction, and then her eyes widened like she had seen a ghost. He whipped his head around. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with ghosts.
    Finding nothing alarming, he stepped toward her and knelt. “What’s wrong?”
    “I think my water just broke.”
    * * *
    Misha held Deanna’s hand as she groaned again. The contractions were close together, and he had finally given up yelling himself hoarse earlier, trying to get someone’s attention. He could freely admit to himself now that he had lost it for a couple minutes after Deanna’s water broke.
    He was way out of his element.
    Two hundred and thirty years old, and he could face down most demons and defeat them if need be. But this? How do you calm a hysterical teen who has gone into labor in an elevator? And the only person who can help her is a stranger…a male stranger whom she just met and who had lied to her about being Southern and human?
    He wished his grandmother was here. She would handle things as she always did, with authority. Deanna moaned.
    “Little one, I think it is time for me to look and see how the baby is doing. The pains are coming very quickly now.”
    Her lips trembled. “No, my baby is not going to be born in an elevator.”
    Misha grinned. “I don’t think you have any say in the matter. Right now, the baby is in charge.”
    “Yell again for help.”
    “First, let me take a look.” When her contractions had increased in intensity, he had folded her blanket on the elevator floor and convinced her to lie down on it.
    He reached for her hospital gown, and she locked eyes with him.
    “It’s going to be fine,” he said, then ducked to look.
    He gasped.
    She flinched. “What?”
    “I can see a teeny bit of the baby’s head! You’re going to need to push very soon.”
    A tear trickled down her cheek. “I don’t think I can do this.”
    “Of course you can.” His heart beat rapid-fire in his chest. “Have you thought of names yet?”
    She shook her head. “No. I don’t know. There are too many names to choose from.”
    “Yes. You just need to narrow down the list.”
    “How?”
    She grimaced, and he grasped her hand during the contraction. After a moment, she took a breath.
    “Maybe you can pick the name of someone who is important to you. A meaningful name which your child can strive to emulate.”
    “You mean more than an unwed, teenage mother?”
    “I will have none of that. A mother who was willing to have a baby on her own regardless of what others thought of her? I think it is a good kind of mother to have.”
    Deanna whimpered again.
    “It is time to push now, Deanna. I can see more of the baby’s head.” He grasped both of her hands, and she gritted her teeth and pushed hard. A groan tore from the depths of her.
    “That’s it! Keep it up.”
    Had it been ten minutes or sixty? Misha didn’t know, but he did know they were both soaked with sweat. Finally, the head pushed through, and he caught the little face in the palm of his hand. “You’re doing great, Deanna. The head is out, push.”
    She clenched her teeth again, and he held his breath as the right shoulder appeared first.
    The elevator started to move.
    Now? They got it moving now ? The left shoulder came out. The elevator dinged and the doors opened behind him, but he didn’t move.
    Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Nancy the nurse step into the elevator.
    “Don’t let go now, big guy.”
    He blinked back tears. “One more push, Deanna!”
    “Unhhhhhhh.”
    The rest of the baby slipped out, and he flipped her over. A perfect little face and body, complete with arms and legs and fingers and toes. “You did it! It’s a girl.”
    Hands reached out, and he