The Heir Chronicles Omnibus

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “I never had any trouble with it before,” Jason said, remembering how he’d handled the stone in the ghyll, caressing its crystalline surface, the flames percolating gently under his fingers. He stood, rubbing his elbows where they’d hit the wall.

  “We’ve been whacking at it for weeks,” Mercedes said. “It might be time to give it a rest. Sefas are temperamental, you know.” She grabbed up the velvet bag. “I’ll just put it back in the crypt.”

  “Mercedes—” Snowbeard began what sounded like a warning. But the sorcerer reached for the Dragonheart and the stone responded with an eruption of flame that sent her staggering back on her long bird legs. She would have gone down had Snowbeard not caught her arm.

  “Well!” Mercedes gasped. “Well, well.”

  “You want to try?” Jason said to Snowbeard, feeling somewhat redeemed.

  Snowbeard eyed the stone. Not being a fool, he snatched up his staff from where it leaned against the wall and extended the bear’s-head tip gingerly toward the Dragonheart until they almost touched.

  The stone seemed to explode, spinning the staff from Snowbeard’s hands, shattering it into three pieces that clattered onto the stone floor.

  They all looked from the broken staff to the Dragonheart and back again.

  “Your staff!” Jason was shocked. Snowbeard had carried that staff for hundreds of years, probably. It was an extraordinarily powerful sefa. Or it had been. Jason collected the pieces, and laid them out on top of the crypt. “Man, I’m sorry. Can you fix it?”

  “The head is intact,” Mercedes said, fingering the broken shaft. “Maybe we can remount it.”

  “Hmmm? Perhaps, perhaps.” Snowbeard seemed distracted. He poked at the broken staff, then turned and studied the Dragonheart, smoothed his beard, twisting the ends between his thumb and forefinger. “It’s mounted a vigorous defense against us,” he said. “What do you suppose accounts for that? What’s changed?” He seemed more intrigued with the Dragonheart than concerned about his wizard staff.

  “Who knows,” Jason said. “But now we can’t even touch it.” So much for his plans to take it back to Raven’s Ghyll. He eyed the stone, wondering if he could sneak up on it somehow.

  “I wish we had the book you found,” Snowbeard said. “That might tell us something.”

  “I can go back and get it,” Jason suggested. When that proposal was met with silence, he added, “I’ll tell you one thing. I’m not going to hide out here forever, sucking dust in a church basement.”

  He swung around to Mercedes. “See you around, Mercedes. I’m done for the day.”

  Hunching his shoulders against the disapproval emanating from behind, Jason clumped up the stairs to the side door of the church. He knew he should leave through the cold, miserable tunnel, but, just then, he didn’t care.

  When he emerged from the building, brilliant sunshine struck him like a club. It was a beautiful winter day, and he’d wasted it holed up in a cellar with old people.

  “Hey, there.”

  The back of his neck prickled. He turned to see Leesha Middleton sitting on a stone bench in the courtyard that adjoined the church. Snow was melted in an arc around her.

  Jason was amazingly glad to see her.

  “You’ve been in there half the day,” Leesha went on, crossing her legs and swinging her booted foot. “Choir practice, or what?”

  Jason sat down next to her, taking advantage of the warm microclimate zone she’d created around the bench. He could think of no explanation to offer as to why he’d spent all morning in church. “Why? Have you been waiting for me?”

  “Maybe.” She put her hand on his arm. “It’s Saturday. I’m bored. Want to do something?”

  “Like what?”

  She seemed surprised by the question. “Well. We could go for coffee. There are some places over by the campus.”

  “I don’t like coffee.”

  “We could get something to eat.”

  “I’m not really hungry.” Jason enjoyed saying no to somebody. He was still smarting from the verbal beating he’d taken in the crypt.

  “Okay.” She paused. “Well, we could go back to my house,” she suggested, gazing out at the square. “My Aunt Milli’s home, but she probably won’t even know we’re there.”

  Jason leaned his head back and looked up at the winter-pale blue sky. “What do you want from me? I can’t help you with Jack, you know.”

  Leesha stood and faced him, her cheeks pink with indignation, her hands balled into fists. “I’ve never met a guy so full of questions. If you don’t want to hang out, just say so.”

  Jason lifted a hand to stop the tirade. “I didn’t say I didn’t want to.”

  “You could’ve fooled me.”

  To be truthful, he was interested. It had been so long since he’d done anything for fun. And the frustration he was feeling made him want to spit in the eye of Hastings and Snowbeard and the rest. Going out with Leesha was one way to accomplish that.

  He stood, taking hold of her hands and lifting her to her feet. “Let’s go to the park.”

  “The park?” He might have said the city dump and got the same reaction. “It’s freezing out.”

  He grinned and took her elbow, towing her along so she had to trot to keep up. “Perry Park is the absolute garden spot of Trinity, and I bet you’ve never been there.” Perry Park was also the perfect marriage of public and private. Smack in the middle of the sanctuary, but they were still unlikely to be seen. And plenty of escape routes, if that became necessary, too.

  Chapter Ten

  Coal Grove, Act I

  The hearing was like a play: everyone in costume, reading their lines, some better than others.

  Ray McCartney was acting the part of the country lawyer, all cardigan sweater and khakis, collared shirt and tie. He’d be representing Carlene for free, of course. He’d been in love with her for as long as Madison could remember.

  Carlene wore a gray dress and jacket, pearls, and low-heeled pumps. She’d bought the outfit from Sears on credit, since she had nothing like that in her closet. Madison had coaxed her mother’s blond curls into a French braid. That and her pink lipstick made her look very young.

  Madison had her own costume: a long skirt and loose sweater, dark stockings and sober flats, her boisterous hair jammed into a clip at the back of her neck.

  I look like somebody’s nanny, she thought glumly.

  They were gathered in a small hearing room on the second floor of the red brick courthouse. Snow swirled past the windows. Madison didn’t look forward to slip-sliding back up the mountain.

  Aside from Madison and Carlene, there was Ed Ragland, the county’s first African American judge, who always looked sleepy-eyed but was known to miss nothing. Bryson Roper, who owned Roper Coal Company and all the land around Booker Mountain. And his son, Brice, of course.

  Mr. Roper was a roughneck turned coal company owner. His expensive suit hung uneasily from his broad shoulders, and his neck squeezed over his shirt collar. His eyes were the color of oak leaves after a long winter on the ground. Around Coal Grove, people said he was capable of almost anything, up to and including murder.

  Brice splayed back in his seat, legs extended, collar turned up. He was air-brushed handsome, like someone in a department store ad. As if that wasn’t enough, he emitted the faint glow of wizardry.

  He was the kind of boy parents trusted. But shouldn’t. He smiled over at Maddie, lifting his left hand to wave at her, and her gut twisted up in the same old way. She’d been away nearly a year, but nothing had changed.

  Judge Ragland set the ground rules. “This is just an informal hearing, what I like to call a conversation with all the parties involved, so the court can find out the facts in the case and decide what to do about Grace and John Robert.” He turned to Brice. “Young Mr. Roper?”

  Brice could tell a story, Madison had to give him that. He explained that he’d been on his way home from school when he saw a plume of smoke rising from the
old Booker place. He thought the house had caught fire, so he’d driven up there to find the shed ablaze.

  “Where were the children at the time?” Judge Ragland asked.

  “They were bringing water from the pump. I tried to put out the fire, but the shed was pretty much gone. I didn’t know where Carlene—Mrs. Moss—was. So I brought the kids back to our house.”

  Ray McCartney leaned forward. “So for all you knew, Mrs. Moss was somewhere on the property.”

  “Well, no,” Brice said, looking embarrassed he had to tell on Carlene. “The kids said she was at work.”

  “So did you take those frightened children to their mama?” Ray asked softly.

  Mr. Roper Senior took over. “No, we turned them over to Child Welfare. Those children are left on their own up there all the time,” he added. “It’s time something was done about it. People around here pay more attention to their dogs than she does those kids.”

  Judge Ragland peered over his glasses, studying some papers on his desk. “Carlene, the report from Child Welfare says these children have been removed from your home twice before for cause. One time they were found wandering in downtown Coal Grove at two a.m.”

  “That was the sitter’s fault,” Carlene said. “I couldn’t help it. I was in Las Vegas.”

  Ray gave Carlene a look. He’d told her to keep quiet during the hearing unless he asked her a direct question.

  “I have to say, I’m troubled, Carlene,” Judge Ragland said. “You’ve been in court several times on account of Grace and John Robert, but nothing seems to change. Why should I expect things to be any different from here on?”

  Ray answered quickly, “Your Honor, this episode was just a miscommunication. Ms. Moss’s childcare provider didn’t show. She wasn’t aware . . .”

  “I asked Carlene,” Judge Ragland said.

  “You know I have to work for a living,” Carlene replied. “It’s hard to find a babysitter who’ll drive all the way up the mountain for what I can afford to pay.”

  “Which is why you ought to give up that place and move down into town,” Mr. Roper muttered, looking up at the ceiling. “Those kids could have burned to death.”

  Judge Ragland glared his disapproval at Bryson Roper, and turned back to Carlene. “So what are you going to do about it? I can’t return these children to an unsafe situation.”

  Carlene gripped her pink purse and leaned forward. “They’re in school on weekdays. And Maddie’ll watch them after school and on the weekend. That’ll give me time to make arrangements.”

  “Is that so, Madison?”

  All eyes were on Madison Moss. She’d anticipated this. She knew she had no choice. “That’s right, sir.”

  “You’re sure now?”

  Madison nodded.

  “What about your school? What are you, a senior?”

  “That’s all set up. I can still graduate.”

  Judge Ragland sighed and stacked the papers on the table in front of him. “Here’s my ruling then. Child Welfare will retain oversight of the children, but we will release them into your custody, Carlene, with the stipulation that Madison is available to provide care for them while you are at work.”

  Madison felt the pressure of the judge’s gaze, but she looked down at her lap.

  “Madison, if the time comes that you can’t do that, you must notify the court. The court being me. In any event, I’ll see you all back here at the end of August.” He turned to his bailiff. “Will you show the children in?”

  Grace marched in, back straight, chin raised high, like any ten-year-old queen, holding tight to John Robert’s hand. But when seven-year-old John Robert saw Maddie, he ripped free and charged into her embrace.

  “Maddie!” He wound his fingers into her hair, tearing it free of its clip.

  Madison hugged him fiercely, pulling his solid little body onto her lap. Someone had glued down his blond curls with gel, plastering them over to the side. He was wearing a redand-white-striped collared shirt and red pants. He looked like a cherubic used-car salesman.

  Grace must’ve refused the fashion makeover, since she was wearing her own clothes, and her fine brown hair was pulled into its usual pony tail. She gave Brice Roper her patented look that would curdle sweet milk, and turned to Judge Ragland. “I want to charge this man with kidnapping.” She jerked her head at Brice, who looked like he had something to say but thought better of it and shut his mouth.

  “That’s a serious charge, young lady,” Judge Ragland began.

  “An old shed caught fire on our property, and my brother and I were putting it out, when he showed up. We might’ve saved it if it wasn’t for him. And then he drug us down the mountain and put us in jail.”

  “Is that so?” Judge Ragland looked over at Brice, who rolled his eyes and shrugged.

  “Anyway, you ought to make him pay for the shed,” Grace concluded, giving Brice the eye.

  “I’ll take that under advisement, Grace,” Judge Ragland said. “Meaning, I’ll think about it. In the meantime, you go on home with your mama and mind her, hear me?”

  He looked at Carlene, shaking his head. “Carlene, you’re raising lawyers. Heaven help you.”

  With that, the hearing was over.

  Ray McCartney patted Madison on the shoulder. “Good work, Maddie. Glad you’re home.”

  But when Madison tried to give Grace a hug, her slender body was stiff and resistant.

  She’s mad at me for going away, Madison thought. She thinks it’s my fault she ended up in kid jail.

  Madison turned around and nearly ran into Brice Roper. “Hey, Madison, what’s up?” he said. Running a hand through his artfully tousled brown hair, he grinned. That smile had charmed every girl in the Roaring Fork Valley, but it sent worms squirming down Madison’s back. “We’ve missed you,” he said. “Everyone says so,” he added, apparently speaking for the entire Coalton County High School senior class. Of which he was president.

  Madison folded her arms and tapped her foot on the weathered wood floor. “I’ll bet they do.” They had to find somebody else to talk about and blame things on.

  Brice smiled down at her, and she took an involuntary step back. He always seemed to be crowding her, taking up more than his allotted space.

  “So,” he said, perfectly aware of the effect he was having. “When are you coming back to school?”

  She shook her head. “I’m not. I’m ...um ...being home-schooled. It’s a distance course.” So I can keep my distance from all of you.

  He stared at her a moment, a slight frown on his face, like he didn’t know whether to believe her or not. “That’s too bad. Well, listen, I’ll call you, then. We can hang out. I’ll introduce you around,” he added.

  Un. Be. Lievable. After everything that had happened, Brice Roper was hitting on her. Again. For a minute she was speechless, the words seeming to stop up in her mouth. “Why . . . thanks so much, but I’m from here, I don’t really need an introduction.” In fact, there were people she’d like to be unintroduced to. Guess who was top of the list?

  “Besides, I’m going to be really busy, and, anyway, we don’t have a phone right now.”

  “Right,” he said. “Carlene’s been using our phone a lot. Stop by and use it any time you want. I’m usually home in the afternoon unless there’s something at school.” He reached out and lightly brushed back her hair with his hand.

  She slapped his hand away and he caught hold of her wrist, his face flushing to the color of old brick.

  Bryson Senior spoke from the doorway. “Brice. What the hell are you doing? Come on. We’re late already.” He pointed at his watch, turned, and stalked out the door.

  Madison looked back at Brice in time to see hatred pass across his face before he swept it clean. He let go of her wrist. “I’ll be seeing you,” he said, and turned away.

  Not if I see you first, Madison thought.

  “What did young Brice want?” Carlene asked as they descended the broad, shallow steps of the
courthouse, Ray trailing hopefully behind.

  “He wanted me to know everybody misses me.”

  “I believe he has a crush on you, Madison,” Carlene said, reapplying her lipstick without breaking stride. “That boy has a hungry look.”

  “Mama. Just . . . don’t.”

  “They say the Ropers have scads of money.”

  “They say a lot of things.” Too much and too often. “Gramma Min told me to steer clear of him.”

  Carlene shrugged. “She never liked any of my boyfriends, either.”

  Ray followed them all the way to the car, buzzing around like a locust in summer. Carlene handed Ray the brush and he cleared snow off the car while she started the engine.

  “I’ll get the terms of the custody ruling in writing and get back to you on that,” Ray was saying. “When’s your birthday, Maddie?”

  “Not till August.”

  “As long as you’ll be here, we can arrange the paperwork so we’re ready to transfer the deed to the house and all whenever you turn eighteen.” Ray was the executor of Min’s estate.

  “I still don’t know why Min would leave you the mountain,” Carlene muttered. “I’m her daughter.”

  “Because if she’d left it to you, it’d be gone already.”

  Carlene shut up, then, fumbling for a cigarette, lower lip trembling.

  There goes your wicked tongue again, Madison thought. Min always said you never could suffer a fool.

  Carlene worked a shift that night, so after supper Madison helped John Robert with his bath, washing the foster-mom gel out of his hair and letting it dry into its natural ringlets.

  Pulling on her coat, she walked out onto the porch. She rested her hands on the splintered porch railing, and breathed in the raw cold like a tonic. Lights glittered in the valley below. Off to the left, Booker Creek worried over stones and whispered secrets on its way down the mountain.

  She explored the vacancy left by Seph’s absence, like she might the space once occupied by a broken-off tooth. He was a constant presence in her peripheral vision, tall and silent and accusing, pale face framed in a tangle of curls. But he disappeared each time she turned her head.