The Heir Chronicles Omnibus

by Cinda Williams Chima

  “What are you doing?” Madison called. When he didn’t answer, she screamed, “There are kids in that house!”

  “Well, then you’d better get them out now,” the wizard said coldly. “Because we’re going to burn this dump to the ground.” He extended his hands, and fire coalesced around his fingertips.

  And then she knew for sure. “Brice Roper! You come away from there or I’ll have the sheriff all over you!”

  That brought him up short. He stood frozen for a moment, then shrugged and swung around, yanking off his hood and raking a hand through his mashed hair. “Hello, Madison.”

  “Brice,” one of the other wizards whined. “This isn’t what we ...”

  “Shut up, I said,” Brice muttered. “I should have just handled this on my own. Don’t make me sorry I brought you along.”

  “I’m warning you,” Madison said. “You’ll never get away with it.”

  Brice laughed. “Who’s going to believe you? This place is a firetrap. It’ll be your word against mine, and I’ll be sure and have an alibi and ten witnesses to put me someplace else. If anyone does believe you, I’ll persuade them they don’t.”

  “People know me around here,” Madison said, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “They’ll believe me.”

  Right. When have they ever believed you about anything?

  “Really? You think so? I say the word, and you’re a witch. I say the word, and you burned your house down yourself.

  The people in this town are sheep, Madison, and I can drive them wherever I want.”

  “You’re the ones who set all the fires last year,” Madison breathed.

  Brice bowed mockingly. “Proves my point, wouldn’t you say? Here we were, burning up the whole valley, and these idiots are blaming you. If the whole town turned against me, I’d sell out and move away. But you didn’t. Oh, no. Instead, you pull a shotgun on them. You’re stubborn as a rock. And about as smart.”

  In that moment, the gut-clenching sensation went away and she was just really, really angry. She strode toward them, into the light. “People know what you are. Some of them, anyway.”

  “I’ll tell you one thing they know,” Brice said. “My father provides jobs for half the county—anybody who’s making a decent living. What’s going to happen when we close up the mine? This place’ll just dry up and blow away. Booker Mountain will keep Roper Coal going another ten years or more.”

  “And then what?”

  “Well, then they’ll have a nice flat place to park something on, won’t they? It’ll be the only level piece of land in the whole county.”

  “I won’t sell,” Madison said. “Not to you, I won’t.”

  “Where are Carlene and the kids going to live, then, after I burn this place down?” Brice snorted. “You can’t even afford a phone. I bet you can’t scrape up the first month’s rent. You going to pitch a tent, or what?”

  Madison clenched her fists and took a step forward. “How can you live with yourself?”

  “It’s your fault. You should’ve agreed to sell. That’s the way the world works. Everybody knows that. But not you. You walk around like you’re royalty in rags or something. Like you’re better than me. Me!” he repeated, his voice rising.

  “Brice,” one of the other wizards said. A girl, from her voice. “Let’s do it or go.”

  Brice collected himself. “All right, Madison. You have five minutes to get those kids out of the house, and anything else you want to keep. There can’t be much worth saving.” He smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll still give you a good price. The house doesn’t add any value, if you know what I mean. We’d just tear it down.” He paused, and when Madison didn’t say anything, added, “You’ll thank me in a year.”

  Madison caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of her eye, and then someone screeched in pain. One of the wizards—the whiny one—went down on the ground, clutching at his head. He lay there, groaning, pressing his hands into his bleeding scalp.

  Then Madison saw Jason, backpack slung over his shoulder, J.R.’s baseball bat in his hand, backing away from the downed wizard. A baseball bat against wizardry? She opened her mouth, meaning to shout, to say something. Jason shook his head, raising his hand to shush her.

  And then she realized—he was unnoticeable to the other wizards in the yard. Noticeable only to her, the elicitor.

  “Hey! Carl? What’s up?” Brice called. “You trip over your feet or something?”

  Carl only moaned some more.

  Jason pulled a knife from his backpack and headed directly for another of the wizards, a stocky boy in low-slung camouflage pants and those giant high-tops. Jason came in close, thrust in and up with the knife, four quick strokes, and the wizard screeched and clutched at his midsection. He ripped open his shirt, revealing a crude M scratched into his chest and belly. “Wh-wh-what’s going on?” he mumbled. “I’m bleeding! Something stuck me. It—it looks like a . . .” He looked up at Madison, eyes widening. “Did ...did you do that?”

  Thinking quickly, Madison drew herself up, tossed back her hair, and smiled at him. “What do you think?”

  The three wizards still on their feet bunched up, facing Madison. She advanced, hands extended, and they retreated. All of the anger, fear, and humiliation of the past year bubbled up inside her. She found herself wishing she did have magic, that she could incinerate them with a gesture.

  Jason kept moving. He pulled a metal can from his backpack, one that Madison recognized from the barn.

  What is he doing?

  He unscrewed the cap and upended it over the girl wizard. The girl shrieked and covered her head with her arms, fighting off her invisible opponent.

  “What is this?” She sniffed, then screamed and ripped off the hood, flinging it away, revealing a pale, horrified face. “That’s kerosene!” She backed away from Madison, shaking her head slowly from side to side. “If you think I’m going to set fire to a house while I’m drenched in kerosene, you’re crazy.” She turned and fled into the woods.

  Madison walked toward Brice, forcing a smile onto her face. She was afraid her heart might burst right out of her chest, it was beating so hard. “So, Brice,” she said, “I hear you like to play with magic.”

  “What th-the hell?” The usually articulate Brice looked like he was in the middle of a very bad dream and hoped he’d wake up soon. “How are you doing that? You’re not a wizard. I . . . didn’t feel anything . . . when I touched you.”

  “You say the word, and I’m a witch,” Madison said, low in her throat. “Isn’t that right?”

  Brice backed away as Madison advanced, raising his hands to fend her off. “Stay away from me.” Meanwhile, Jason came at him from the side.

  “Spell me, why don’t you?” she taunted. “See if you can. I dare you.” Her shadow extended before her, tall and angular.

  He stretched out his hands, but then pulled them back, no doubt remembering what had happened in the studio. “Madison. Come on. Let’s talk about this.”

  She extended her hand toward Brice, mimicking a hex sign Min had used. Unnoticeable Jason swung the bat, smashing Brice in the face. Brice jerked backward, yelling, pressing his sleeve to his face to stem the flow of blood from a perfect nose that was now smashed off-center.

  “Ouch!” Madison said, shaking her head. “You’re really not all that good at this, are you? I guess you need a little more practice. Want to play again?”

  Brice spat out blood and a broken tooth. “I don’t get it,” he mumbled through his damaged mouth.

  “No. You don’t. But I’ll tell you what. I’ll make the same deal you offered me. I’ll give you five minutes to gather up anything you want to keep.” She glanced around—at Carl, who had sat up, blotting blood from his face with his shirt; at the other wizard who was still contemplating the wound in his midsection, looking like he might pass out. “Can’t be much worth saving,” she added.

  Brice slid his hands under Carl’s arms and hauled him to his
feet, both of them beat up and bloody.

  “One more thing,” Madison said. “You better hope my life runs real smooth from here on. Anything happens to this place—fire, explosions, earthquakes, the well goes dry, bridge goes out, the apple trees get blossom-rot—I’ll know who to blame. And I’ll come after you. You ever set foot on my property again, I’ll incinerate you.”

  For once, Brice had nothing to say. He and Carl hustled off into the woods, heading for the road.

  Madison waited until the wizards had been out of sight for a good five minutes. Then she crouched next to the old chicken coop and vomited, heaving until she had nothing left. Jason squatted next to her, gathering her hair in his hands and pulling it back out of danger. Then he fetched her a mason jar of water from the spigot so she could rinse her mouth. He helped her back to the house, and they sat down on the porch steps. Madison was trembling, her teeth chattering. Jason put his arm around her and pulled her close, patting her back.

  “God, you’re good,” he said, shaking his head. He seemed stunned by her performance. “I couldn’t believe it. You’re so brave. You scared the hell out of them.”

  “Me?” Madison said, shuddering. “You.” Tears pooled in Madison’s eyes, escaped, and ran down her cheeks. “I’ve been . . . so stupid. I should have seen it coming. I know him. I know what he is. What would have happened if you hadn’t been here?”

  “You could’ve taken them,” Jason said, taking her hand in his and squeezing it. “No problem. You’re like a ...a lioness, defending your den. I mean, juice ain’t all it’s cracked up to be, compared with that.” He rolled his eyes and she laughed, but there was something in his expression, like he’d had an epiphany.

  “I better go find the kids,” she said, wiping her tears away. “They must be scared to death.” She stood and turned toward the house, but just then she heard Grace’s voice from the woods back of the barn.

  “Madison? What’s happening? Can we come out?”

  “Come on,” Madison said, and Grace and J.R. emerged from the woods, Grace with a vicelike hold on her brother’s hand. Madison sent up a silent prayer of thanks. Grace had done just the right thing. She’d taken J.R. and hidden in the woods.

  Her little sister was growing up.

  “Where’d those men go?” Grace asked, glancing around the barnyard. “Those were the same ones who set fire to the shed.”

  “How much did you see?” Madison asked, exchanging glances with Jason.

  “We didn’t get to see anything!” J.R. complained. “Grace made me go in the woods.”

  “Don’t worry. Jason and I ran them off,” Madison said. “I don’t think they’ll come back.”

  After the kids had gone to bed, Madison invited Jason into the house for his belated dinner. They sat at the kitchen table, and the dogs laid practically on their feet.

  Things had changed, though Jason couldn’t quite say why. For one thing, he’d stake his life—and Seph’s, too—on the fact that Madison Moss was not in league with Warren Barber. Or the Roses. Jason didn’t know how to explain the painting, and he knew it would freak her out if he asked about it. But, somehow, he no longer needed to.

  “So. What are you going to do?” Madison asked Jason. So she, too, sensed they’d reached a turning point.

  “Maybe I better stick around in case Brice and his friends come back,” Jason suggested.

  “You don’t have to,” she said. “I’m guessing Brice won’t want to tangle with me any time soon.”

  Okay, Jason thought, I’m expendible again. But this time he felt it was more like he had options. “Well. I’d wanted to go back to England. Hastings is planning an attack on the ghyll, and I wanted to get in on it.” He shrugged “It’s probably already happened, by now.”

  “So you’ve changed your mind?”

  He nodded. “I could go back to Trinity, I guess. But, I never felt that useful when I was there. I felt like, next to Seph, I was . . .” His voice trailed off. He couldn’t quite believe he was confessing all this to anybody. “I couldn’t stand that, doing nothing. When I left to come here, Seph told me he needed me to come back, that he could use my help. But I figured he was just saying that, because we’re friends.”

  Madison put her hand on his arm. “Since you’re friends, I think you ought to believe him.” She hesitated, then rushed ahead. “Me—I’m a mess. I miss Seph so much. I want to be with him, but I can’t. And the Dragonheart—it’s like an itch I can’t scratch. I can’t seem to get it out of my mind.”

  Jason stared at her. That was it exactly. They both lusted after the stone, but it couldn’t be for the same reason. Jason looked on it as some kind of tonic. He could feel the flow of power to his Weirstone, every minute of the day. But Madison didn’t have a Weirstone.

  Just then Ophelia raised her head and looked toward the door. A car rattled into the yard and stopped.

  What now? Jason thought. I mean, this is getting kind of relentless. He held up a finger, signaling for Madison to stay put, and crossed to the door, peering through the screen.

  Two people were climbing out of an old Jeep that he instantly recognized. Breathing a long sigh of relief, he walked out onto the porch.

  “Jason!” Harmon Fitch crowed, a smile spreading across his face. He turned to Will Childers and slapped hands. “The dude’s alive! That’s the first good news we’ve had in a while.”

  They sat around the kitchen table. Jason seemed nervous and distracted, like he was trying to think up answers to the questions he knew were coming. Madison delayed the interrogation as long as she could, making small talk, rooting in the refrigerator for drinks, pounding ice cube trays on the counter, and dumping chips into a basket.

  Finally, twitchy Fitch could stand it no longer. “In case you’re wondering why we’re here,” he said, “everybody’s been worried because we haven’t heard from you.”

  “What have you guys been doing?” Will asked. “Why didn’t you call?”

  Well, Madison thought, because Jason begged me not to tell, and threatened to tell about Grace being an elicitor, if I did. She looked at Jason pointedly, waiting for him to speak, while he looked like he kind of hoped she’d handle it.

  “I did e-mail Seph,” she said finally. “And wrote a lot of letters.”

  “But you said Jason never showed,” Will said.

  “Well. Um. I guess so,” Madison stammered. “But ...”

  “It was my fault,” Jason broke in. “I was an idiot. I wouldn’t let her call. I didn’t want anyone to know I was here.”

  Will lifted an eyebrow. “You wouldn’t let her? Did you tie her hand-and-foot or what?”

  “Something like that.” Color stained Jason’s cheeks.

  He’s actually blushing, Madison thought. That’s a first.

  “That’s messed up,” Fitch said. “What’s the matter with you? Everybody was going crazy. Some people said you took off.” Fitch removed his glasses and polished them on his shirttail. “But Seph wouldn’t believe it. He was convinced something happened to you.”

  “Well.” Jason looked at Madison, then back at Fitch. “Something did.”

  So they told Will and Fitch about Barber, and Jason’s injury, and Brice Roper.

  “You should’ve told us,” Will said, a betrayed look on his face. “Nick or Mercedes or somebody could have helped you.”

  “I was going to run off, okay?” Jason’s voice rose. “And I would’ve if I hadn’t been hurt. I wanted to get away from the whole Trinity scene. And then, after, I was ...um ...out of my head.” He stared down at the table. “I’m better now.”

  Fitch eyed him, then nodded grudgingly. “Well,” he said, “seems like things are almost as dangerous down here as at home.”

  Madison’s mouth went dry as cotton. “Why? What’s going on in Trinity?”

  “Well, for one thing, Barber’s been sighted up our way,” Will said. “Jack and Ellen and Seph got into this big battle with him in some old warehouse in Cleveland and practica
lly burned the place down.”

  “What?” Madison looked from Will to Fitch. “How did that happen? Are they all right?”

  “They’re okay,” Will said, rearing back under the onslaught of questions. “Just some scrapes and burns,” he said. “Routine for them.”

  “And?” Jason demanded. “What about Barber?”

  “He got away.” Will hesitated. “Leesha Middleton told us that he was after you.”

  Jason’s face seemed to drain of its usual animation, and his blue eyes went narrow and hard. “Did she?” he said, in a cold, disinterested voice.

  “She was the one that led them to Barber,” Fitch added, frowning at Jason.

  “That was Barber’s mistake,” Jason said lightly. “Trusting Leesha.” Hamlet nudged him, whining, and he scratched the dog behind the ears.

  What’s going on? Madison wondered. Did Jason think Leesha had something to do with . . .

  “Anyway,” Fitch persisted. “Leesha’s really helped out, and I wanted you to know. I know some of us haven’t exactly . . . welcomed her back, but . . .”

  “So what else is going on?” Jason broke in, still focusing on the dog.

  Will shrugged. “Mercedes is building a magical wall around Trinity. Well, with a lot of help, I guess. Not that we’ve actually seen it, or anything.”

  “They’re building a wall?” Jason looked from Will to Fitch. “Are you talking about the boundary?”

  Will shrugged his shoulders in a how should I know way. “Guess it’s different. Like a real wall. Real for the Weir, anyway.”

  “See, the thing is, Jason, they could really use your help,” Fitch said. “I don’t know much about it, but seems there’s a real shortage of wizards. Mr. Hastings is still gone, and it’s just Seph and Nick and Iris, and a few other wizards, doing it all. Jack’s helping some, but once the warriors start manning the gate, he won’t be around much. It takes a lot of magic, I guess, to prop up the wall.”

  “You need to come back with us,” Fitch said. He smiled crookedly. “I’ll tell you one thing—I don’t want to be the one to tell Aunt Linda about her car.”

  Jason hesitated. Madison touched his hand and smiled at him encouragingly. “Seems like Barber’s left, anyway,” she said. “It’s your call, but I think you should go.”