[Chronicles of the One 03.0] The Rise of Magicks

by Nora Roberts

  Including Jeremiah White.

  Fallon looked down on him where he sprawled on the road to New Hope.

  “I know we need to talk,” she said to Duncan. “But we have to deal with this first.”

  “Yeah. To both.” He took a step back when Lana rushed to her.

  “Fallon.”

  “Warrior Mom,” she murmured, holding tight. “Dad.” Still in Lana’s embrace, she reached for him as he dropped down from the sniper’s nest. “We’ll talk, I promise. Mallick. I’m glad you were here.”

  “You timed your return well.”

  “I saw—in the fire. We need to check on the other lines, on the houses and farms.”

  “Word’s coming in, elf to elf.” Like Simon, Tonia dropped down. “We have some injuries. No casualties reported so far. We’re still chasing down a few. Hi, pal.” She gave Fallon a light punch on the arm. “Nice entrance.” She looked down at White. “And top prize.”

  “Let’s get him into town. The gardens I think.” Fallon looked at her mother. “It seems appropriate. Arlys is going to want to report on the attack, the capture. We’re going to broadcast it far and wide.”

  “I’ll take him.” Duncan set a boot on the back of White’s neck, flashed them through.

  “He’s feeling a little rough,” Tonia said.

  “I know. I’m sorry.” Fallon sighed. “I’m sorry. Let’s get this done.”

  Lana laid a hand on her arm. “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Part of me wants him dead, but that’s not the way. I’m going to question him, here, in front of as many as possible, so any who want to hear can hear. I’m hoping Chuck can find a way to record it so we can send it out. So more can hear and see and know.”

  “We’ll get the word out,” Simon told her. “I have a feeling everyone in New Hope wants to hear.”

  She kept him sleeping; it seemed best. Under the colorful lights of the gardens, people gathered. She saw Lissandra, with her son at her side, Garrett, who bore the brand White ordered burned into the flesh of captured magickals. Anne and Marla, still grieving for the son lost in New York, stood with their remaining two children. Her mother, who’d fled what had become home to save the child she carried in her.

  Before she moved forward to pull White out of sleep, she heard a murmuring through the crowd, one that grew louder.

  “God, Jonah.” On a gasp of breath, Rachel gripped his arm. “With Eddie. Is that . . .”

  “Kurt Rove.” Jonah put a hand on his youngest son’s shoulder. “It’s that son of a bitch Rove.”

  Eddie, his face hard as granite, dragged the bound man through the crowd. Then shoved him to the ground in front of Fallon.

  “This here’s Kurt Rove. Maybe he didn’t kill Max Fallon directly, but he was part of it. He betrayed this town and everybody in it. He killed the good, sweet woman my oldest girl’s named for. Shot her in the back while she used her own body to shield a child. He’d have killed your mama if he could, and you with her. You need to know that, Fallon. You need to see him, and know that.”

  “I do know it, Eddie.” She looked down at Rove, at the bitter face scarred by hate, at the eyes radiating it. “I do see him.”

  “I wanted to kill him when I saw he was one of the prisoners. Wanted to just put a bullet in him and be done. But I couldn’t kill in cold blood. I couldn’t do that and face my wife and my kids.”

  “It’s what makes you the man you are, and not a man like him.”

  “I’m gonna ask you for one thing. He doesn’t go to some island to make a life. He doesn’t get that after what he’s done. I’m asking you to lock him up, so he lives locked up, like we’ve done for men like Hargrove, like you’ll do for White. He earned it, so I’m asking.”

  “It’s done.”

  “Okay then.” Tears swam into his eyes, and his jaw trembled, but he nodded, sharp and firm. “Okay.” He walked back to Fred, to the arms she put around him.

  “You ain’t gonna lock me up, lying bitch.” Rove spat at her. “Everybody knows you burn the righteous alive with your hellfire.”

  “You’ll be disappointed when you find yourself in prison for the rest of your life. We don’t execute prisoners. We don’t enslave them, torment them.”

  “Lying spawn of hell. I should’ve cut the throat of your whore of a mother when I had the chance.”

  Fallon clutched the hilt of her sword. “I wish you and your twisted soul a long life in the dark you’ve chosen. No, leave him,” she said when Will moved forward to take him away. “Let him hear what the one he follows has to say.”

  She walked forward to White. “Wake.”

  Still dull from the spell, White’s eyes blinked open. As they cleared, as he struggled to get to his feet, found himself bound, a violence came into them.

  Hate, deep and crazed, with fear riding with it.

  “Things didn’t go as you planned,” she told him. “New Hope stands. You don’t.”

  “More will rise in my place. Legions to strike you down.”

  “I don’t think so, but they can try. There are people here tonight we freed from you and your followers. Children you branded and took as slaves, people you raped, magickals you mutilated and tortured.”

  She glanced around, saw Garrett, remembered the dream, years before, when she’d watched Duncan, Tonia, others from New Hope rescue him. She gestured him forward.

  “What was done to you?”

  “His Purity Warriors captured me, they locked me up with other magickals. They branded me. They tortured me, beat me, burned me, raped me. They were taking me to be hanged—they held ritual hangings at midnight on every Sunday, like . . . worship. The people of New Hope rescued me and the others. I was twelve.”

  “Spawn of Satan,” White spat at him. “The Almighty will strike you down, you and all like you.” He managed to push up to his knees.

  “You don’t deny imprisoning, torturing, branding, raping, executing children?” Fallon asked.

  “They aren’t children! They aren’t human. Demons! Demons spreading their infestation over the earth.”

  “Yet he lives here, as do others, causing no harm, while the Dark Uncanny you’re in league with burn and kill. The Raiders who ride with you burn and kill. With Dark Uncannys in your number you attacked the peace of New Hope, trying to end me before I was born. You killed my birth father on this very ground.”

  The fanatical light burned like torches in his eyes. “It should have been you.”

  “It wasn’t.”

  “It will be.” He threw his head back. “Strike me down with your sword, demon whore. I give my life for the god of Abraham. Shed my blood on your demonic altar, rend my flesh for your hell beasts to feast on. I will walk in the kingdom while you burn in the fire.”

  “That’s a lot of drama,” Fallon said with a hint of amusement that had White’s eyes glinting. “We don’t execute prisoners, have any demonic altars. We sure don’t feast on human flesh. You’re going to have to settle for prison.”

  She felt it, in a snap of an instant, the quick pulse of dark power. And in that instant, threw out her hands to meet it.

  Black met white with a force that set the ground to quaking. The bonds fell away, White’s face and form fell away.

  Allegra sneered as she rose.

  “You fool. Eric killed White years ago. We took turns wearing his face, leading his idiots against you. And you never saw.”

  “I see now.” All the beauty gone with no power to spare to disguise the scars that ruined the face, the thin wisps of gray that exposed most of the raw, ridged scalp.

  “Too late.” And on tattered wings, Allegra flew up, slicing bolts of fire. “I’ll be back with an army, finish you.”

  “It’s not,” Fallon murmured, as she and others extinguished the weak flames before they hit the ground. “And you won’t.”

  Wings spread, as silver as her sword. Fallon rose up on them, drew Allegra’s fire.

  “Only dark magicks, blo
od sacrifice bring the wings to the witch.”

  “You’re wrong,” Fallon said. “Again.” She blocked the bolts, held her own fire. Allegra was weak, she thought, obviously unable to draw the strength to flash. And not a little mad. “Pull back your power. Surrender and live.”

  “The dark protects me, with the blood of the legions shed in its name. Your light dims against it.” She swiped at Fallon again. “You destroyed the father of my child, you gave her pain. Now watch the bitch who whelped you burn.”

  She used all she had to draw up a torrent of flame. She sneered down at Lana, drove that torrent toward the ground.

  “No!” With power pumped by fear, Fallon pulled the storm of flame back. And threw up her shield to deflect it, felt the storm of heat lash out as it engulfed Allegra.

  One shriek, sliced off short, then there was nothing. Just nothing.

  On the ground, Arlys gripped a trembling hand on Chuck’s arm. “Tell me you got that.”

  “Yeah.” Though it shook a little, he kept his scavenged and rebuilt video camera on Fallon as she landed softly, folded in those silver wings. “I got it. I need a really big drink.”

  “We’ll both have one when we check the footage.” She stepped forward to stand with Lana. “Did you know she could do that? You know, fly?”

  “No. I knew she had all magicks in her, but . . . We’ll have to talk. Eric, now Allegra.” Lana reached for Simon’s hand. He’d stood beside her even as the fire spewed down. “Both here, where they killed Max.”

  “It’s justice.”

  “Yeah.” Steady and sure, Lana brought his hand to her lips. “It’s justice.”

  People wanted to stay and talk, to Fallon, to each other. Apparently, she noted, Duncan wasn’t one of them.

  She embraced her family.

  “So, wings,” Colin commented. “They’re the bop.”

  “The what?”

  “It’s an expression I’m trying out. It’s going to catch on.”

  “No,” Travis corrected.

  “Wait and see. Let’s round up the troops, get them back to the barracks. I’m due in Arlington tomorrow.” With set teeth, focused effort, he lifted his arm, closed his leathered hand into a fist, and tapped Fallon’s shoulder. “Nice work.”

  “I need to help with the horses.” But Ethan came in for another hug first. “She was lost, and couldn’t be saved.”

  “I know.”

  “She tried to call for Petra, but she couldn’t pull enough power. If she’d stopped trying to kill you, kill Mom, she could have. But she couldn’t stop. Glad you’re back,” he added, and moved off.

  “Think about Petra another time,” Simon advised. “If and when she comes, we’ll be ready. I’m going to help Will with the prisoners.”

  “And I’ll help with the injured.” Lana brushed a hand on Fallon’s cheek. “There’s chicken left from dinner at home if you’re hungry.”

  “I’ll get to it.”

  Then Lana laid her cheek to Fallon’s, whispered, “Go find him.”

  “I will.” But she turned to Mallick first.

  “You put the last weeks to good use.”

  “I traveled, and studied, and grieved. I needed to. I went to Wales because I wanted to see where you were born. That’s where I found my wings.”

  “I didn’t mean the wings. They were never lost, only waiting. You would have spared her life. Even when she left you without a choice, you didn’t take her life in vengeance. You put your time away to good use.”

  He frowned at some dried blood on his sleeve, brushed it away like lint. “The boy, however, spent most of his brooding. I’m for a glass of wine and my bed.”

  “We’ll talk tomorrow. There’s still work to be done.”

  Since she couldn’t find Duncan, she searched out Tonia.

  “Excellent wings. Want a beer?”

  “Not yet, thanks. I—”

  “He went to help with the prisoners. Too many of them for the usual, so he suggested using Howstein’s barn, putting a lockdown spell on it, doing a sleep trance on the DUs until we can start transporting them tomorrow.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “He has a few.” Tonia’s MacLeod blue eyes softened. “He missed the hell out of you, Fallon. Go a little easy on him.”

  “I’m more hoping he goes a little easy on me.”

  She decided it was only fair to talk to him, if he was willing to talk, on his turf. So after the town bedded down for the night, she sat on the curb outside of his house to wait. He’d come back eventually.

  It occurred to her she’d never done this, just sat in the quiet of New Hope. The fact that it could and did settle in again after a night of attacks, bloodshed, violence, illustrated its resilience.

  It served, to her mind, as an illustration of the resilience of the spirit, of the unity forged by community.

  Illuminated now by only moon and starlight, it slept. Parents had checked on their children, soothed them into dreams. Lovers shared beds. In the clinic, medicals watched over the sick or wounded.

  The schools held dark, waiting for morning when instructors and students would file in. With the sun, shops and services would begin the day. The farms would stir awake, the community kitchen would smell of coffee and cooking.

  There could be peace after war, she thought. There could be normality after nightmares.

  And, she knew, there could be solace after the grieving. Renewal after doubt.

  Hope after despair.

  She heard the sound of the engine, the muscular roar through the quiet. Driving fast, she thought, driving home. And stood to meet him on her feet.

  Like the first time she’d seen him, in dreams, with his hair blowing in the wind. But he’d been a boy then. The one who swerved the bike to the curb, cut the engine, swung off to face her was a man.

  She’d considered a dozen ways to start this conversation, and at the sticking point tossed them all aside and said what came first. “I’m sorry.”

  He didn’t approach her, but stood as he was. “For what?”

  “For leaving when you wanted me to stay, when you needed more from me than I could find in me to give. For staying away longer than I’d said I would. And for blocking you out while I was gone, even though I knew it would hurt you.”

  “I know why you left, or thought you had to.”

  His voice carried calm—he didn’t put a bite or snap in it.

  “I figure there’s a reason you didn’t come back when you said you would. I don’t get why you blocked me. I don’t get that, and yeah, you hurt me.”

  “I blocked you because I was afraid if I let you in, even for a minute, I’d come back.”

  More than a bite snapped out now. “Fuck that. I wouldn’t have pushed you.”

  “No. I’m not supposed to say it’s me, not you,” she reminded him, “but it was. I’d have come back before I was ready because I wanted to be with you, and wanted the comfort you’d have given me. I needed you more than I needed to find my resolve again.”

  She lifted her hands, helplessly. “My faith and real purpose, lost in grief and a need for revenge. I lost it with Mick, and I had to find it again. I had to, Duncan, or I’d never be able to do what needs to be done. Everything I wanted was here. You, my family, my friends. If I hadn’t left all of that, I’m not sure I’d have found what I needed inside myself to fight again. Or to lead again.”

  “Did you find it?”

  “I did. But I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry I worried my family and friends. I’m sorry I wasn’t here to help.”

  “That’s a lot of sorry.”

  “I have more if you need it.”

  Studying her face, he shrugged. “That might be enough.”

  And in two strides, grabbed her, dragged her in, took what he really needed.

  “Oh, thank the goddess,” she murmured and locked herself around him. “Come with me. Will you come with me?”

  Without waiting for an answer, she flashed.
>
  The light shimmered, pale green with the sparkling blink of pixies dancing. A pond spread, pure, clear as glass, with moonlight filtering through trees to spill across it. Mists, thin fingers of silver, rose from the water. The air, warm and sweet, held still.

  “It’s your faerie glade.”

  “It’s where I was before I came back. Right before I— I’ll explain later.” Her fingers dived into his hair. “Can we just talk after?”

  Since he wanted her naked, he swept his hands over her, left her clothes, her sword, in a jumbled pile with his before dragging her down to the carpet of grass.

  This first, he thought, body to body, skin to skin. This first.

  “Touch me.” Her hands ran over him as she murmured against his mouth. “Bring me back to you. Come back to me.”

  Light sparked as they came together, over flesh, under it. She felt it pour inside her, fill all the spaces she’d emptied out. She’d turned from him to find resolve, and now, turning back to him, found love.

  And pleasure. The beat of his heart, the strength of his hands, the shape of him, the taste.

  Here, with him, she could yield, or demand. Abdicate control or take. Here, with him, she could feel all the joy she’d lost.

  He gripped her hands to slow them, to slow his own. Looked down at her, at the moonlight mirrored back in her eyes. When he took her mouth again, he stripped off all barriers and let his heart pour into the kiss.

  You’re my light.

  She melted under him, let her heart pour into his.

  And you’re my light.

  They rose up, joined, cushioned on the sweet air, bathed in the soft, green light, with their own, united, shimmering like the stars.

  When, once more, they lay together on the carpet of grass, their light quieted to a glow, she pressed a kiss to his heart. “I’m forgiven?”

  “Probably.” He trailed a finger down her spine, up again. “I wasn’t mad. Well, off and on. I was worried, everybody was. Where did you go?”

  “Everywhere.” Now she rested her head on his heart. “At first I just needed to be alone, to be gone. The grief, it was so huge, and still only part of it. There’s so much empty in the world, Duncan. It’s not hard to find places to be alone. I’ve known what would be asked of me all my life, and I carried that. I’ve carried more since I turned thirteen. So I told myself everybody else would just have to handle it all for a while because I couldn’t. And I knew you would. You, my parents, my brothers, Tonia, Arlys, Jonah, everyone. I knew you would. If it was selfish, well, the gods would just have to deal with that. Because I couldn’t lead troops into battle when my heart was bleeding or ask anyone to follow me when I couldn’t see where to go.”