by Kathy Miner
Not until she was standing over all of them, glaring, did it occur to her to wonder what on Earth she planned to say. Her eyes locked onto Quinn’s face. She saw his lips move, form her name, but she couldn’t hear. It was as if all her senses were dulled, packed in cotton, except for the spot of white-hot rage burning in the center of her chest. Her eyes zeroed in on Karleigh, and she felt a snarl distort her mouth.
“Back off him. Now.”
Karleigh was up in a flash. She was half a head taller than Grace, robust and curvy to Grace’s boyish slightness, but she didn’t step closer. She did, however, return Grace’s snarl. “Or what?”
Grace had never looked for a fight in her life, but to her amazement, she wasn’t the least bit afraid. Exhilaration joined the rage in her chest, and she stepped in, crowding the larger girl. “Or I kick your ass. Was that concept simple enough for you to grasp, or should I break it down a little farther?”
“Grace.” Quinn’s voice. “Stop. It’s okay.”
She cut her eyes to him. He was standing now, too, with Lark in his arms. She smiled at him, sharp and mean. “Actually, it’s not. You’ve got a daughter to think about now. Gotta watch the company you keep.” She kept talking to him but returned her eyes to Karleigh, who was standing there, chest heaving her outrage. “At the very least, you should set your sights higher than a trashy, shit-for-brains, bitch in heat.”
Karleigh swung and Grace ducked. She planted her hands just above the other girls’ ample boobs and shoved as hard as she could, sending Karleigh sprawling backwards. A wild ferocity surged in her blood, and she started forward, only to be brought up short by a hand fisted in her shirt at the scruff of her neck.
“Grace Ramirez!” Rowan let go of her shirt but took hold of her arm. “I saw that whole thing! You owe this young lady an apology!”
Grace pulled her arm free and straightened her shirt. Then, she shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t apologize unless I’m wrong. And I wasn’t. Everything I said was true.”
Karleigh was up on her feet again, flanked by Andrea and Thomas, her face crimson with embarrassment and rage. “I wouldn’t accept your apology on a silver platter, you freakin’ bitch! I can’t even believe you! You abandon Quinn and your own daughter –” Her gaze snapped around the gathering crowd. “Yeah, I said it out loud, and we all know! Lark is your daughter, and you dumped her like last week’s garbage. Her and Quinn. You don’t want them, but no one else can have them, is that it?”
Burning bridges. That’s what Verity had said. So be it. Grace turned her cutting smile on Karleigh. “That’s not it at all, Karleigh. I’d just rather see someone with a modicum of moral fiber and perhaps the intelligence of a kumquat step up. That means you don’t make the cut.”
“I’ll kill you, you nasty little bitch!” Karleigh lunged, and Andrea and Paul struggled to hold her back. “I’ll kill you with my bare hands!”
Grace watched until the bigger girl subsided, then smiled at her again, sweetly this time. Her voice, when she spoke, was light and conversational. “Have you ever seen two people fight to the death, Karleigh?”
Silence and stillness spread through the crowd at her words. She looked around, making eye contact with these people, these men and women who thought they had already survived the worst. Laughing and talking, enjoying their rustic little market, determined to stay here and “defend their homes and families.” In a matter of hours, Hell on Earth could be in their midst. If not today, then tomorrow. It would come, and they were fools for refusing to see it.
“Have any of you? Seen an actual fight to the death?” Her eyes sought Quinn’s. He was weeping quietly, unashamed, just as she’d known he would be. Dear Quinn, who always felt her pain. “I know one of you has,” she said softly, then raised her voice again. “But the rest of you have no idea. It’s nothing like the movies. It takes forever, most of the time. They cry, because they don’t want to hurt each other – doesn’t matter if it’s men or women. Their clothes get torn, in awkward and embarrassing ways, and the crowd laughs. Then they get serious, and they stop being human.”
She turned back to Karleigh, whose face had lost all color as she listened. Her dad had told her, once, that Karleigh could sense the feelings of others. Grace allowed herself to remember and stared at the other girl. “And you know who I always felt the most sorry for? The winner. The looks on their faces. The horror they felt, at learning what they could do. What was inside of them. It was terrible to see.” Her eyes swept around again. “That’s what will happen. Those of you that survive the initial attack will be kept for the arena. Except for the girls.” Eyes back on Karleigh, Grace let her have all of it. The humiliation, the pain, the fear. “They keep the girls for a different kind of entertainment.”
Karleigh’s face crumpled, and she began to cry, great wracking sobs. She wasn’t all bad, and, on some level, Grace had known that all along. She had been a tool, a means to this end. In the crowd around them, others were crying, battered by the horror Grace had stored in her heart and unleashed on them. She stepped away from Rowan, who seemed stunned, and walked to Quinn.
Lark was tucked under his chin, her head resting on his chest, but she was staring at Grace. Grace gazed back at her daughter, then reached to touch her willingly for the very first time, smoothing her palm over the warm, round curve of her little head. She looked up at Quinn, and cupped her other hand along his jaw, embracing them both.
“Make them understand,” she said quietly. “You know what will happen if you stay. Take Lark, and go. Keep her safe. I’ll do what I can to stop them, but you all need to go. Soon.”
Quinn pressed his hand over hers. “Gracie, I love you. I know you don’t love me like that, and I don’t need you to. Come with us. Don’t do whatever you’re planning.” His breath hitched in a sob. “Please don’t leave us again.”
Grace felt a hard tug in the center of her chest, and, for just a few seconds, her resolve faltered. She looked at Lark, and felt the tug again. She forced herself to take her hands away from both of them and stepped back, feeling Quinn’s tears, cool and wet, in one empty palm, feeling the ghost curve of her daughter’s soft head in the other.
“I can’t think of any other way,” she said shakily. “Someone has to start eroding their power base. Someone has to assess what’s going on with those helicopters and see if there’s a way to disable them. They’re too organized. They have all the advantages.” She looked at Lark, forced herself not to reach for her again, then looked back at Quinn. “It’s all I can give her. The best I can give her. Don’t you see? It’s her only chance at a future.”
She turned and walked away before he could answer, leaving unrest and fear seething in her wake, which was good and right. Back inside the library, she drifted back to the windows where Verity still stood. Together, they watched the crowd shift and clump, breaking apart and coming back together in new configurations as people discussed the bomb Grace had thrown into their midst. Neither one of them said a word.
Grace’s eyes probed and analyzed, noting the resigned slump of Ignacio’s shoulders and Andrea’s dejection. The two strongest hold-outs were reconsidering. Now if only Naomi would see reason, this group might choose to survive. In spite of her resolve, Grace’s eyes returned again and again to Quinn. He stood like an island in the chaos, his cheek resting on Lark’s head as he swayed back and forth, his face written with the lines of his pain. Karleigh had disappeared, but Viola still lurked about, and the twins were each hovering at one of his elbows, love and worry for their friend plain on their usually inscrutable features. Beside her, Verity lifted a graceful hand. Grace turned to look at her.
“May I?”
Grace nodded, and Verity moved to stand beside her, hands coming to rest like hummingbirds on Grace’s shoulders. And even though Grace had been warned about the angels, there was no way she could have been prepared for their majesty, their beauty. She closed her eyes, and knew she was safe for the first time since her family had been
stricken with the plague. The relief of it made her sob aloud. How could anything stop this woman, with such powerful beings surrounding her? She could do whatever she desired.
“Well, not exactly.” Verity’s wry voice sounded beside her ear. “Michael is a total stickler. One might even go so far as to say a killjoy. He totally refused to let me pull this practical joke I had in mind – seriously, it was pure genius and Raphael was all for it, but nooo – ow! Okay! Fine!”
Grace opened her eyes just as Verity lifted one of her hands to rub the back of her head, looking disgruntled. She sighed a long-suffering sigh, then returned her hand to Grace’s shoulder and nodded towards the window. “Gabriel wanted you to have this. A gift, before you start your journey.”
Grace followed the direction of Verity’s gaze and once again found Quinn and Lark. As she watched, everything around them blurred and seemed to speed up. Her daughter grew, right before her very eyes, through toddling steps and messy pigtails, through gangly limbs and a sudden surge in height. Oh, she was so tall, much taller than Grace. She watched the years unfold for her daughter, Quinn a constant loving glow beside her, until a young woman stood where there had been a baby moments before. Lark smiled, but even with joy lighting up her face, those eyes were sad. And those eyes turned to lock on Grace’s.
“You’ll see her again,” Verity said softly. “You agreed, in the time before time. It is written, and it will be.”
Grace gasped, desperately wanting to believe, though her intellect kept searching for an explanation for what was happening. “And Quinn? Will I see him, too?”
“That’s less clear,” Verity answered. “Not all things are certain. His path is his own, but he won’t be alone.” Once again, she nodded at the window.
Grace turned, and this time, Quinn and the boy called Beck were centered in her vision. Except… “Jump back,” Grace breathed. “Beck’s a girl? Never saw that coming.”
“Neither will Quinn.” Verity’s voice lilted with laughter. “It won’t take them long to figure it out, though.”
Grace watched as the scrawny boy became a lean, lovely woman, as pretty as her mother. That woman brought laughter and joy to Quinn’s face, then something more. When their bodies curved together, Grace turned her face away. What she was feeling was too complicated to sort out. Quinn’s strong arms would hold someone else. His great and golden heart would beat for another. She peeked again, and saw them surrounded by children, sweet-natured boys and fiery girls. She knew she should be glad that Quinn would find love, but her heart ached with loneliness.
Verity lifted her hands and stepped back. The world was once again hard and cold, and Grace shivered. She looked at Verity, who seemed so much smaller without her angelic posse.
“Why did you show me this? Am I going to die?”
Verity sighed, and shook her head. “You mental intuitives. So brilliant, and always in your own way.” She lifted her hand and tucked a piece of Grace’s hair behind her ear, just like her mother used to do. At her touch, Grace was once more cradled by the shimmer of angels’ wings. “We did it to remind you that you’re never alone. You’ve chosen a very difficult incarnation, Grace, one of the hardest I’ve ever seen. Terrible things have happened to you, and it must have seemed like you were all alone. You never were. None of us are ever alone. The angels won’t interfere with a Soul Journey, but they never left you and they never will, not for even a single heartbeat.”
Then, she stepped back and cracked her hands together, making Grace jump. She jumped again when Verity emitted a piercing whistle. From the depths of the library, Persephone barked. Grace heard the swift click of her nails on the foyer floor, and caught the little dog automatically when she leaped. Both of them stared at the suddenly purposeful fairy, who was gazing at them with her hands on her hips, tapping her foot impatiently.
“My bike’s outside, parked next to yours. When do we leave?”
EIGHT: Piper: Limon, CO
In the chill, half-light before dawn, Piper and Ed huddled over a series of maps with Brian Weaver and a woman named Claire Valente, the leader of the group of survivors from the eastern states. Piper and her companions had been in Limon for three days, longer than they’d originally planned. Weather had delayed them, a series of fast-moving thunderstorms that had battered the area with wind and marble-sized hail. A rising barometer and clear skies this morning were signals to be on their way, and Piper found herself both eager to hit the road and reluctant to leave. These were good people, and even though she had spent every minute she could either interviewing people or writing down what she had learned, she still felt like there was so much information left to gather, especially from Claire’s group.
Claire reached out and tapped the city of Grand Island, Nebraska. “Too big,” she murmured. She had offered to share her advice and experience, both hard-earned on her nearly 1,500 mile journey here. “Swing to the north, west of Kearney, I think. You won’t want to linger near interstates or major highways, or anywhere else traffic stacked up. Hustle through and don’t look back, especially if you see a pile of supplies, like canned food or bottled water, just conveniently waiting to be picked up.” Her mouth flattened into a grim line. “We lost two people learning that one.”
For lack of a better plan, Piper had simply drawn an “as the crow flies” line on the pertinent maps between where they were and where they wanted to go. Loaded with gear as they were, with varying levels of riding experience and endurance among them, they might average 40 miles an hour, sometimes a little less. If they rode for six or seven hours a day, with no major detours or problems, they could make Pewaukee in five, maybe six days.
Ed was examining one of the maps Brian had supplied – different maps, they had discovered, could contain completely different information – and he made a noise of concern. “Piper, look at this.” He, too, pointed. “The Prairie State Wolf Wildlife Management Area. Your plan has us going right through there tomorrow.” He straightened and looked at her, eyebrows raised. “Do you suppose there are still wolves there?”
“What I wouldn’t give for a Google search right about now,” Piper muttered. She looked where Ed was pointing, then traced an alternate route with her finger. “I suppose we could swing even farther to the north…”
“Probably not worth the detour,” Claire offered. “It’s likely the wolves died in their enclosures soon after the plague went through. Ryan, one of the men traveling with us, lived near the zoo in Columbus, Ohio. Before he left, he said the elephants had made it out, and some of the primates, but he heard all the big predators starved. Too well contained. Even if the wolves escaped, there’s no way to know if they’re still in the area.”
Piper swallowed hard, thinking of the animals she had grown up visiting in the Cheyenne Mountain Zoo. Had the pride of lions starved? What about that huge giraffe herd? What had happened to them? “Poor things,” she murmured. “I’d rather they’d made it out, even if we did have to watch out for lions and tigers from now on. But I see your point. If I’m remembering my National Geographic channel right, wolves can have a range of hundreds of miles. They could be anywhere.”
“There’s no way to predict, and in my opinion, no need to alter your course because of it. We started out trying to avoid things like prison areas and such, and it didn’t do us any good. We ran into our biggest problems in good old suburbia, U.S.A. The inner cities are safer, where there were businesses and high rise apartments before. People don’t tend to live there now. No water, no place to grow food. If you can’t avoid going through a major city, go right through the business district rather than the suburbs. Avoid big parks and natural recreational areas, especially if they include a water source, like a lake or river. Those seem to be magnets for people.”
“There’s so much to think about.” Piper looked up at Claire and blew out a nervous breath. “Don’t suppose you’re up for another adventure? We could sure use your experience, and I wouldn’t mind having another girl to share bathro
om breaks with.”
Claire smiled, but shook her head. “I’m all adventured out, I’m afraid. Most of my people are.” She sobered and met Piper’s eyes. “I wish you all weren’t so set on going. It’s terrible out there.” She dropped her voice lower, enclosing them in a girls’ only bubble. “Especially for women. Do not get separated from your group, you hear me? And don’t think twice about stepping behind that giant, Owen. Gender equality is fantastic and all, but you’ve got to be alive and free to appreciate it. It’s a damn shame what we’ve degenerated into.”
Piper reached to rest her hand on Claire’s forearm. She liked this practical, intelligent, determined woman. “I’ve already made it through some of the terrible, and it’s worse than shameful. When all this settles down, you and I will have to knock some heads together.” She started folding up the maps. “I guess we’ll just have to work each problem as it shows up. There’s no way to know where trouble will come from.”
“That’s mostly true. You can be pretty sure trouble will come from people, so avoid ‘em. All things considered, I’d rather run into wolves. At least they’re straightforward about their intentions. People are tricky and deceptive. They lie and justify, especially to themselves. Even with the new intuitive skills so many people have, it can be hard to assess the situation. You’ll figure out how to think it all through and choose the best option.” She looked grim again. “You’ll also screw up, and learn the hard way. I just hope it doesn’t cost you people, like it did us. You don’t have as many to spare.”
Ed whistled, calling Rosemary to his side. “Well, it seems like we’re as ready as we’ll ever be. Brian.” He held out his hand, and the two men shook vigorously. “It’s been a pleasure. If I’m ever back this way, my best girl and I would be happy to stay a while.” He nodded with old-school politeness to Claire. “Thank you, for all your help.”
