Avalanche: Book Five in the Secret World Chronicle

by Lackey, Mercedes

  Finally a word exploded out of her. “Junior?” She continued to stare at this too-young version of the man she had known and considered one of her best friends. “Junior?” she repeated. Not saying what she was thinking, which was to wonder who in hell this boy’s mother was, and whether John himself had ever known anything about this kid—

  Wait…did the Thulians print a JM? They could have. The facility she’d subverted could have printed humans just as easily as Thulians and hybrids. Couldn’t it?

  For some reason, her mind flung…not panic, but a few bars of ethereal music at her. Music like—

  The door opened, but she remained fixed on this youthful doppelgänger, her mind refusing to budge. “As in the opposite of ‘Senior.’” John Murdock—the real one this time—casually walked through the doorway. Close behind him, her wings tucked, was the Seraphym—no, Sera Murdock now.

  No—wait—reflexively she did a quick telempathic scan and slammed right up into that firehose of Celestial energy that no Thulian print job could ever have copied. It…wasn’t as strong as it had been. Maybe half or a third of the strength—which was still ECHO OpFour level and would have scared the shit out of her if it hadn’t been them. Clearly them. And there was more of that energy, muted, more like OpThree, from…Junior.

  Impulse sent her flying out of the chair, damn near climbing over Bulwark, to throw her arms around both of them. “Omigod, omigod, you’re alive!” she babbled, and then burst into hysterical tears, all the tears for all the people she had wanted to weep for since…well, since all this started back in Las Vegas, an age ago. JM put a comforting arm around her and held her against his shoulder while Sera unfolded a wing and cupped it around them both.

  “Don’t go spreadin’ that around, kiddo. Death has been good to us. Nice an’ restful, like.”

  “Well, we have been a little busy,” Sera said, her eyes briefly flitting over Bella’s shoulder to Junior.

  A laugh broke out of her, cutting the hysterical tears short, “Junior” once more offered her the tissues; she took a fist full, sopped up her face, blew her nose, and looked up into…first John’s smile, and then across to Sera’s. “Where the hell have you been? How did you survive nuking that ship brain? How did you spawn a teenager in the course of a week?”

  “In reverse order,” John started, holding his hands up in surrender, “It took a bit longer than a week. I think he’s nineteen—”

  “Eighteen, Dad,” JJ—she automatically assigned him as in her head—interrupted.

  “—next month. He’s not bad in a fight. Taught him everythin’ he knows, naturally,” the now elder Murdock beamed. “As for the ship, that poor thing sure went through a helluva lot. Abused for millennia, tortured, ripped to pieces and put back together again. Even after all that time, the fuckin’ Thulians still never figured out everythin’ that it could do. Like kids playin’ with hand grenades an’ nukes; they used what they could, ignored anythin’ they didn’t understand.” He shook his head.

  “The poor thing was…a torture victim,” Sera said, her eyes brimming for a moment with tears. “We could not free it. We could not heal it. There was no way to shut it off, or disconnect it in any way. It was terrified one day the Thulians would learn how to use it to lure others of its kind, murder their crews, and take them, too. It wanted to die; no, it longed desperately to die. So we helped it, and it helped us.”

  “Helped you,” Bella said, looking from Sera to JM and back again. “How?”

  “We did our trick; we helped kill it. But before the chain reaction could come back an’ take us out, it sent us away. Far away.”

  Bella fixed him with a gimlet stare. “And you spawned a nineteen-year-old in a week. Pull the other one, Murdock.”

  “Technically, eighteen. An’ not in a week. When I say far away…I mean New Mexico. Also…a little bit before we all knew each other.”

  “I was born in Alaska,” JJ said helpfully.

  This was making her head spin. Far away? New Mexico? Alaska? “We are going to be having a long, long, long talk about this, John Murdock,” she said. “But…all right. Are you back? Or do I keep you in the memorial service?” Because, after all, Red was still officially dead and intended to stay that way, or so he said through Vix. And they were OpFours, and right up until the attack on the Mothership, there had been far too many people in high places who wanted the couple locked up or under some kind of control.

  “We’d like to stay ‘missin’,’ if it’s alright,” John said evenly. “Aside from you, Bulwark, Vic, and Unter, we don’t want to have much of a profile. Officially or unofficially. There are still a lotta folks out there that wouldn’t mind havin’ us under lock an’ key, either as lab rats or as a pocket ace for the next apocalypse. Both of us have had our fill of that sort of livin’,” he said, looking to Sera.

  “I do not know if I can keep my temper if yet another arrogant, power-hungry, greedy…” She struggled for a moment and then burst out with, “…asshole tries to tell me that he is more important than the Infinite!” Her wings bristled until she looked like a giant red pinecone until she managed to smooth her temper and her feathers down again.

  Bella’s felt her eyes widen. “You just swore…” she said faintly.

  “I was provoked,” Sera replied. “John thinks we will be more effective if he and I remain quietly available to you. After all, he is still wired for Overwatch Two. You can have us in moments if you need us.”

  John hit the side of his head with the heel of his hand. “That’s what I was forgettin’. Overwatch. Cancel shutdown.”

  “John Murdock is now online,” Eight said; the tone was matter of fact because, of course, Eight already knew the Murdocks were in the office; Bella almost never shut her access off anymore.

  “We’re also goin’ to need a set for the boy, ’fore too long. But we can figure all of that out soon.” He crossed his arms in front of his chest, nodding to Bella. “What can we do to help?”

  She let out her breath in a whoosh. “Gairdner?” she said, looking to Bulwark. “I’m thinking they’d be handy as…sentinels. Watch for trouble, wade in if things are going pear-shaped, disappear like the Lone Ranger. We’re about to have a crazier world than before. Countries all over the world with Thulian tech and Metisian science, Thulians who haven’t surrendered, Thulians we can’t reprogram that escape from wherever they’re held, and God only knows what Verdigris and other meta-crooks are going to get up to. Things have destabilized in a big way, and they’re a lot more complicated. And I do not for a minute think that all the Thulians have been captured. There are probably cells of them tucked away all over the globe. I like the idea of having an ace in the hole.”

  Bulwark nodded. “What about the boy?” he asked, nodding at JJ.

  “That’s up to him,” John said, shrugging. “Figure let him try things out with y’all, an’ with Unter…an’ maybe on his own, if he keeps his nose clean. He’s his own man, after all.”

  “You know about Nat, then?” she asked, then shook her head. “Of course you do. Well, we’d be very happy to have JJ, but so would Unter. Although he’ll probably bitch about not running a kindergarten, and make you sign a nondestruction-of-Urals pledge.”

  “I think I can manage that,” JJ said. John arched an eyebrow at his son. “Well, for a little while, at least.” JJ added sheepishly.

  “Oh, the tales I could tell,” Sera sighed. “The tales I could tell…” The family, with the occasional good-natured rejoinder from Bulwark when Sera or JM poked a little fun at him, went on like that for a while. Talking about plans for the future. How amazing was that?

  Bella closed her eyes for a moment, and reopened them. The Murdocks were still there. A family. There had been so much loss…almost an unbearable amount of loss, but there were good things, too. Vickie and Red had somehow healed each other. John and Sera had done the same. She had discovered the love of her life…who loved her the same, right back. Ramona! With Merc! Who would ever have guesse
d that? Not the pudgy little ECHO detective herself, that was for sure. Even the Mountain—now Atlas—was with Amphitrite, whose “madness” was thankfully of the “cheerful delusion” kind. Terrible things had happened. But wonderful things too.

  We saved the world. And we somehow saved each other. And we freed ourselves from something that was absolutely inevitably going to end us, she reminded herself. We know the Thulian history now, and they have never let a subject race escape. Either they are enslaved or destroyed. There was no third option.

  Already, fracture lines were forming in the grand world coalition that had seen them to victory. But, for right now, there was peace, and with the Murdocks, Ramona and Merc, Vickie and Red…and yes, her and Bulwark…there was hope. Hope for the future. So…yes. It was worth it. It was worth it all.

  * * *

  Bring him back.

  Scope ran a finger gently along the spine of the bloodied dagger, waiting for the rush to hit her system. Nothing happened, and she sighed.

  You know the rules. Nothing good will come from resisting. Just give me what I want.

  And again, there was no answer. She looked around. She had never been in Key West before. It was lovely here. White sands, aquamarine waters, gorgeous towering palm trees…just lovely. She considered staying awhile. Why not? Nothing on the outside mattered so much anymore, but a view was a view. And he would have liked it here. Bruno had talked about retiring here one day.

  But for Scope, it hardly mattered. Truth was, she would have been content to hole up in a swamp or in a cave somewhere. One place was as good as another, and she had all the time in the world now. The exterior was meaningless, just a scenic backdrop to the heart of what lay within. It was her body, the confines of a newly forged prison, that mattered. The only thing she had to do was keep breathing, and that didn’t seem to be much of a chore any longer. Nothing was. She suspected she might be eternal now. Only time would tell, or not. Was there an end to time? She wondered if she would ever find out.

  She grasped the blade again by the hilt.

  Bring him back, she commanded. Do it, or we’ll take it from the top.

  Again, there was no answer.

  Fine, have it your way.

  She reversed the knife, and drove it into her arm, and on the inside, she heard Harmony begin to scream. With a slow, almost delicate motion, she began to carve Bruno’s name into her own flesh. Only then, did she feel him return. His presence flowed back into her, and through her, and she sighed, once again in her lover’s embrace.

  She let the knife go, letting it fall with a soft thud onto the sand, onto a growing, soaked stain of her pooling blood. She felt nothing but him, nothing but Bruno. The pain was for Harmony alone, and Scope scarcely noticed her wounds closing, healing, as Bruno’s name faded from her flesh. The screaming stopped too, replaced by muffled whimpers, as she felt Harmony retreat to some far corner inside of her. Scope didn’t care, not as long as Harmony remained inside her cage, and fed her what she wanted.

  I love you, Bruno.

  * * *

  Soft darkness. Softer bed. The gentle scent of amber and vanilla. And magic everywhere around her, wards layered on wards, protections on protections, all of it familiar and comforting. They were in one of the guest suites at St. Rhiannon’s School for Gifted Students—this was as close to a home as Vickie had ever gotten, given how much moving around her parents had done. No one could find them here unless she wanted them to, and this was the best, maybe the only place where Red could safely learn about his new self. And it was definitely the only place where she could get a new sword and dagger forged.

  And, maybe most important of all, this was a safe place where they could learn about each other.

  Of course there was always a price to pay, but this one was one she was glad to provide. Linked through Eight, St. Rhia’s was about to enter the internet age, with magical analogs of computer terminals and m-space connections to Eight. It was all agreed to, she’d already set up the first terminal for her own use and soon St. Rhia’s would have an actual “computer lab.” Eight was loving the idea of all the company, all the new people to talk to. Eight was also loving all the new spells the eager students were filling his spell bank with. No more worries about running out; this would be St. Rhia’s ongoing payback to ECHO for saving the world—to keep Eight able to do some of the kinds of remote magic Vickie had done.

  Grey was somewhere, networking with all the other familiars. Or maybe bitching and gossiping. Or all three. Herb was probably with him; wary of elementals at the best of times, the faculty of St. Rhia’s was letting him do pretty much what he wanted to. Good thing he was so well-behaved and polite.

  Vickie was curled on her side, and cupped around her like a physical manifestation of the protections on the school, was Red. Not that long ago, she would wake up to bitter reality out of a dream of exactly this, to find herself (of course) alone, and weep painfully into her pillow. Now she would float slowly up out of sleep, feel him beside her, allow that simple fact to fill her with incredulous joy and then drift off again.

  So, of course, at the moment between waking and sleeping, at the point where she was just going to drift back down into sleep again, Eight said urgently, “Vickie! Wake up!”

  “No,” she muttered. “I told you. No messing with us unless the world is on fire. You can—”

  But even with her eyes closed, she couldn’t escape it when Eight lit up her HUD with a scene from Bella’s office, from Bella’s eye-cam. And that was when her eyes flew open, and she stifled a gasp, slipped gently out of Red’s grasp and out of bed without waking him, tiptoeing to the far side of the opulent bedroom so her whispering wouldn’t disturb him. “Jesus Cluny Frog, Eight! Is that JM and Sera?” Astonishment and elation filled her. “They’re alive?”

  “Yes and yes and the second young man is their son. I have no good explanation for this. But John Murdock is back online and you can ask him yourself…you should just listen to this for the moment, I think.”

  Vickie grinned a little at the extremely mild and implied rebuke. Eight was asserting himself. This was good. But even better was the feed from Bella’s office, which had her heart racing and her mind speeding. GOT to talk to JM pronto. And get to JJ and Overwatch him. And…A million ideas blossomed at once, and she listened and watched and sorted through them all at the same time.

  “How do they look?”

  She glanced up at Red, chagrined. “Dammit, I was hoping not to wake you.”

  Red smirked at her. “Still getting used to how sensitive my hearing is. Well, I suppose that goes for all my senses. Learning how to dial them down when I don’t need them.”

  Vickie strolled back to the bed and sat down, running a feather-light finger along his shoulder and resting her hand there. “They look…amazing. And older. Red, they’re alive! And they have a kid!”

  He sat up, laid his hand on hers and paused, lost in thought. “From what I’m hearing through your earpiece, that kid sounds really…green. Having those two for parents, can’t say I’m too worried about him. But if he’s got even a fraction of what they have…his trainers are going to have their hands full drilling into him how careful he’s going to have to be. He’s going to be very dangerous.”

  She nodded. “He’s going to need a really good trainer. Hell, there’s a building full of kids back in Atlanta that are going to need really good trainers. There’s the ones the Murdocks rescued from the Program, plus the ones that Bela and DG collected that Unter and Thea and I got out, and the gods only know how many kids triggered powers in response to the Mothership fight.” She bit her lip. “Jesus, ECHO is going to have to have a freaking school for these kids. And trainers that can handle kids, who are stupidly overconfident and think they are immortal…” She gave him the side-eye.

  Red gave her a blank stare.

  She chuckled. “Well, it’s a thought, Tall, Dark and Waterproof. No one but me knows this is your real face.”

  “Let’s slow
down on all that, okay?” Red muttered, shaking his head. “I really don’t know what I’m going to do now, Vix. I don’t have a handle on any of this right now. I don’t know how much I can do; hell, I don’t even know what I am anymore. I guess I’ll have to figure it out soon. I’ll tell you this though—I am tired of hiding. I am tired of pretending. I might not know what I am, but I think I’ve finally figured out who I am. I’m someone who’s always been afraid to do what’s right. I’m not afraid anymore.”

  He held her hand tightly, and looked deep into her eyes.

  “And you pretty much had everything to do with that.”

  She felt her heart skip half a dozen beats and her eyes stung for a minute. “Shoot, I just gave you a rope. You did all the climbing. Don’t sell yourself short. It was always in there.” She sniffed, rubbed her eyes quickly, and grinned. “Besides, you still have plenty of asshole in you to leaven all that out.”

  “That’s fair,” he smirked. “Very fair.”

  “And I absolutely have my due share of bitch.”

  “Also fair,” he agreed.

  “And I’m not afraid to use it.” She thought she had probably never smiled this broadly in her life. “We deserve each other.”

  “I certainly wouldn’t wish you on anyone else,” he said, and laughed as he slapped away the pillow she picked up to pummel him with.

  “Pitiful. Afraid to fight with a girl.” She slipped off the bed, and started for the chair where she’d laid out clothing for today. Might as well get an early start…

  She yelped as she felt his elongated fingers wrap around her wrist, pulling her back.

  “My best fights are with girls, as you well know,” Red chuckled. “Leave the clothes. Whatever you had planned for today, it’ll keep.” He drew her to him, and held her close. “Stay here, with me. Come back to bed.”

  “There’s no way I can sleep now—”

  “Oh, yeah, like we’re going to sleep—”