by Tanya Huff
“Okay, not a problem. I’ll borrow Kiren’s.” She spun in place trying to spot Kiren’s phone, saw the backpack dangling from a doorknob and dove for it. The phone was in an outer pocket with a dead battery, but a quick run-through of Jennifer Lopez’s “Charge Me Up” took care of that.
“Charlie?” Allie asked through a yawn. “What are you . . .”
“Where’s Jack?” Breathe damn it! There was air. There wasn’t Jack, but there was air.
“In Lethbridge, in a freezer, dealing with the Courts.”
“No, he’s not.” Phone clamped between ear and shoulder, Charlie shimmied into her jeans. “I woke up this morning and he was gone.”
“You were with him?”
“No! The connection between us was . . .”
“Broken?”
“No, not broken.” She gentled her voice as much as she could. Allie loved him, too. “Gone. Like he . . . like he wasn’t.”
“Come home.”
Her boots were over by the door. “Do you know . . .”
“I have no idea. Just come home.”
“I’m on my way.” She tossed Kiren’s phone on the table by the front door, slipped out, and traced a quick charm over the lock rather than walk off with Kiren’s keys. Then she paused, erased the charm and slipped back in.
Kiren was right. There was a system in place to avoid exposure and a thousand songs about forgetting. Not even for Jack could she ignore that.
Except . . .
This was different than asking Gary to carry yet another secret and keep it hidden away from those he loved. Who the hell was she to take hope away from the woman who’d given the world a chance?
* * *
Charlie couldn’t hear Jack’s song in the Wood. She stumbled, grabbed a branch, and hung there for a moment listening to the way the music—Allie and the aunties and her mother and her sisters and a hundred cousins and even Gary’s bouzouki—didn’t work without Jack. It edged around the empty places instead of filling them in and the silence shouted this was where Jack should be.
Allie’d said Lethbridge.
* * *
His Song still resonated in the walls of the meat packing plant.
“Hey, you! Yeah, you, girl! What’re you doing here?”
“Piss off!” Charlie snapped and couldn’t find it in herself to care when the man with the clipboard stared down in horror at the spreading damp patch on his crotch.
Asphalt and concrete both complained about the Frost Giants’ passing and Charlie followed the sound of the ground cooling to the skim of ice that marked where the gate had been. Jack hadn’t gone through it. He’d landed, sent the giants through, and taken flight again.
If she went to the last place he’d been heard, would she leave the Wood in midair?
Would Jack return to save her?
Would Jack return to save her? Get a fucking grip.
Could she slip between the sound of plummeting to save herself before she hit the ground? Possibly. Probably.
Maybe not.
She couldn’t risk it.
* * *
“Was it the aunties? Were they on him about the ritual?”
No surprise Auntie Gwen answered instead of Allie. “Jack knew we wanted him to take part in this ritual, Charlotte. And it’s the same reason we want you to take part. However painful it may be for the two of you to stay apart outside of circle once that line has been crossed, we have to be able to say that we were at our full strength when . . .”
“When we fail.”
“If that’s what happens, then yes.” She gestured to an empty seat at the kitchen table as Allie headed toward the coffeepot. “We left any necessary encouragement up to Cameron. He’s been trying to convince Jack to share the load for the last two years. The details of what happens to a Gale boy in circle are best left to another Gale boy.”
“Oh, he’s heard the details,” Allie sighed, handing Charlie a mug of coffee. “Cameron has been quite eloquent in his pleas for Jack’s help.”
Charlie noted the puffy half circles under Auntie Gwen’s eyes, heard the absence of Graham and the twins, realized they wouldn’t be interrupted by men or children, drank half the coffee, and sat down. Allie was wearing one of Graham’s shirts—which she only did when he wasn’t home and she needed the comfort. Growing up, she’d worn one of Michael’s football jerseys nearly threadbare, and Charlie was one of four people who knew that the faded jersey remained tucked in the back of one of Allie’s drawers. Maybe five people; Michael had probably told his husband.
“If something happened at Lethbridge . . .”
“No.” Charlie pulled her attention back to the current situation, no matter how little she wanted to think of Jack being gone. “I went there first. Whatever happened, happened after.”
“Is he . . .”
“No!”
“Charlotte.”
“Tell me you weren’t going to ask me if he was dead? Tell me, and I’ll apologize.” When Auntie Gwen shook her head, Charlie growled, “That’s what I thought. He’s not dead. I’d have felt his death, and I can’t feel anything. The place Jack should be is empty. The sound system has cut out in the middle of the show, and I’ve gotten so dependent on it I can’t play acoustic any . . .” The handle of the mug snapped off. Charlie stared at the piece of broken stoneware, watched Allie’s fingers pull it out of her grip and check to see that she hadn’t cut herself, looked up, and said, “He’s not dead.”
“The dragon didn’t fly over this morning.” Allie shrugged when Charlie turned toward her. “If one of his uncles caught up to him . . .”
“I could still feel him if he was hurt or unconscious, Allie.”
“I know, but what if he was back in the UnderRealm?”
She turned the mug until she couldn’t see the broken bit, and with her guitar calluses as insulation against the heat, drained it. “The Dragon Lords can’t open gates.”
“Jack can,” Auntie Gwen said bluntly. “And his uncle had to have arrived here through one of the gates the Courts aren’t policing.”
Charlie expected her to mention why the Courts weren’t policing their gates, why the treaty was currently saggier than a rapper’s jeans—the aunties were big on placing blame—but Auntie Gwen merely waited, well aware that if Charlie didn’t want to listen to the silence, she’d have to fill it. Have to say something to drown out the absence of Jack. “There’s a reason Jack might have gone to the UnderRealm.”
“To learn to be a sorcerer from the Courts so he can stop the asteroid and save you.” Auntie Gwen sighed as Charlie felt her mouth drop open. “Was it supposed to be a secret?”
“The aunties hunt and kill sorcerers.”
“As both you . . .” She nodded across the table. “. . . and Alysha keep saying, Jack’s different. Predictably, we’re not exactly thrilled by an asteroid wiping out most life on Earth, so I think you’ll find that if he can learn how to stop the asteroid, we’re willing to hand wave the sorcery and call it a Wild Power.”
That sounded almost believable. “Auntie Bea . . .”
Auntie Gwen smiled. It was, in the fine auntie tradition, a smug and somewhat supercilious smile. “Let Jane deal with Bea.”
“Auntie Jane . . .”
“Will do what’s necessary to keep the family alive, as she always has.”
A little annoyed by the interruptions, Charlie muttered, “Jack wants to keep everyone alive, not only family and definitely not just me. We talked about me taking him back to spend the four years he’s been here with the Courts.”
“That’s a great idea!”
She could hear hope in Allie’s voice and hated having to extinguish it. “No, it isn’t. The Courts do nothing for free and the price he’d have to pay is too high. The ritual may have forced his hand,” she continued before Allie could
ask what that price was, “so now he’s gone to the UnderRealm to get proof that the Courts will teach him.” If she was honest with herself, it was what she’d been afraid of since she’d felt him gone. “If he comes home with that proof before the ritual . . .”
“You’ll be told to take him back those four years.” Auntie Gwen’s tone left no room for doubt. That would happen.
“And if you refuse,” Allie said softly, “if you go Wild, you’ll doom the family.”
As there was nothing to gain from pointing out that she’d doom the whole world, Charlie decided not to bother. “If I take him back, Jack will pay.”
“You’ll both pay, Charlotte.”
One hand splayed over the slight curve of her belly, dimpling Graham’s shirt, Allie shook her head. “It’s time travel, Auntie Gwen. Jack’ll be gone for minutes her time.”
But Charlie was watching the shadows in Auntie Gwen’s eyes. “You’ll tell me to do it after ritual.”
“As much as we’re willing to hand wave, we won’t turn a sorcerer loose until all other possibilities have been exhausted, and—as much as you and Jack are powers separately—the two of you together in ritual are too great a power to pass up.”
It wouldn’t matter if they were able to raise power enough to stop the asteroid or only enough to help save the family, they’d spend the rest of their lives, of her life, living during ritual, during those few brief moments when the years between them would matter less than the power they’d raise. “Fuck you.”
“Charlie!”
Halfway to the door, Charlie heard Auntie Gwen murmur, “Let her go.”
Allie winced as the door slammed and paused her pursuit long enough to shout, “We can’t let her go Wild!”
“Alysha.”
The power of her name held her in place.
“Charlotte’s voice held nothing but anger and grief. If she were breaking with the family, we’d have heard it.” Auntie Gwen stood and put the mugs in the sink. “She’ll do what she has to.”
Holding Graham’s shirt tightly around her, Allie reached out and felt Charlie’s unmistakable presence heading for the roof, radiating leave me the fuck alone. The profanity came through loud and clear. “It sucks,” she muttered, turning back toward the kitchen. “It sucks that she can’t be with Jack. It sucks that ritual’s going to screw up any lesser connection they might have built between them. And it sucks that there’s a stupid big rock on its way to destroy the whole stupid world. The whole thing sucks!”
Allie half expected an impatient request to stop stating the obvious, but to her surprise, Auntie Gwen merely turned, leaned on the counter, and said, “I know. I was the one who spent five hours with Bea last night going over Jane’s list of those in the first circle she’d be willing to send west.”
“Five hours?”
“It’s complicated.”
“Why not the same circle that went up against the Dragon Queen? Except for Auntie Jane, of course,” Allie added quickly when Auntie Gwen frowned.
“Meredith won’t leave Jane. Ellen and Christie won’t leave Arthur.” She made a face that pulled Allie’s mouth into a reluctant smile. “Five hours, Alysha. Five minutes more and we’d have needed another name on the list because I’ve have strangled Bea. How fond are you of this broken mug?” she added, turning back to the sink. “Throw it out or put it aside for Jack to fix?”
“Jack’s gone.”
“He’ll be back.”
“How can you be so sure?” There had been no doubt in Auntie Gwen’s voice. Not that the aunties usually allowed any doubt they might be feeling to show, but . . .
“Because he’ll do everything he can to save Charlotte.”
“And the family.”
“Probably.”
“Probably?” Allie’s right hand spread over the gentle swell of her belly. “He’s a Gale!”
“He’s a Dragon Prince and they’d laugh at the concept of noblesse oblige. Saving the family will save Charlotte. Saving the world will save Charlotte.” Auntie Gwen set the last of the rinsed cups on the drainboard and faced Allie again. “I honestly don’t give a rat’s ass about his motivations. The family can save itself without him, but it’ll be a lot easier with him. The world . . .” She spread her hands. “Well, you don’t want to spend time with Bea if she misses Top Gear.”
“How can she?” Allie sighed. “It’s always on. I’m not sure even an asteroid can stop it.” Before Auntie Gwen could reply, the apartment door opened and Allie spun around, Charlie’s name spilling out even though she knew her cousin was still on the roof.
Joe shook his head and gripped her shoulder lightly as he passed. “According to a Brownie who heard it from a flock of Pixies, Jack opened a gate and went through to the UnderRealm, but he wasn’t alone. There was an older dragon with him.”
“The dragon that’s been flying over the store!”
“It’s unlikely there’s two of them here so, yeah, probably.”
“If Jack’s gone to find out if the Courts can teach him . . .” Auntie Gwen made a face that suggested she wasn’t too happy about a sentence containing more than one if. “. . . what part would one of his uncles be playing?”
“Maybe he contacted them to see if they could help. With the Courts,” Allie added as Joe shook his head. “Not the asteroid.”
“Be like taking a gun to a knife fight,” Joe sighed. “Still, if it comes to threats, the illusion he has his other family behind him couldn’t hurt.”
“Did the Pixies say which Dragon Lord it was?”
“No, the Brownie said the Pixies had fixated on Jack, repeating the word gold like they were Pratchett dwarves three sheets to the wind.”
“Pixies read Pratchett?”
“No.” Joe brushed cookie crumbs off the front of his jacket. “But the Brownie’s a big fan. Both the Pixies and the Brownie were surprised at the lack of bloodshed. Given Dragon Lords.”
“Maybe it’s Adam, then. He’s usually on Jack’s side.”
“You should go tell Charlotte, Alysha.”
She should. Now they knew for sure. “What are you going to do?”
“Since Graham has the boys . . .” Auntie Gwen crossed to the circle of Joe’s arms. “. . . we’re going home to spend at least an hour forgetting the world’s about to end. Maybe two, if no one calls.”
* * *
Allie paused at the top of the stairs to catch her breath, sagging against the doorframe, right hand absently tracing charms over her belly. She’d been exhausted for the first trimester of her last pregnancy, full of energy for the second, and had waddled through the third. So far, pregnancy number two was taking the same route. From where she stood, she could see Charlie sitting on one of the loungers, knees tucked into the narrow space between it and the other, shoulders hunched under her jacket. Her hair fell forward over her face, the sunlight making the blue streak look turquoise. She wasn’t humming, or tapping, or making any kind of noise at all. She looked . . .
Not sad. Allie’d seen Charlie sad. Unhappy. Anxious. Nervous. This was something new.
Defeated.
She looked defeated.
But only until Allie started moving, then she shook her hair back and looked like Charlie again.
“You don’t have to put on an act for me,” Allie sighed, crossing the roof.
“I don’t have to wallow in front of you either, and as I don’t have to, I’d rather not.” She held up her hand, the light glinting off the screen of her phone. “Did you leave this up here?”
Allie sat down on the chaise and leaned against Charlie’s shoulder. “No. But you know what they’re like.” It was colder on the roof than she’d expected and she wondered if Charlie was missing Jack’s heat. Stupid. Of course she was.
“My mother called. She wanted to tell me that the twins love Australia.”
“Of course they do. Everything’s trying to kill them.”
Charlie made a noise that could have meant everything was totally justified or that the twins weren’t as bad as all that. Allie wasn’t sure which; she wasn’t as good at interpreting noises as Charlie, but on reflection decided it had to be the former.
“Do you think we can set a branch there?”
She pushed against Charlie’s side until her cousin pushed back. Different skills, matched strength. “I think we have to try. But . . .” In the pause, the Dragon Queen rose above the park, Graham gave himself to her, David gave himself to the family, a heartbeat defined the difference between survival and destruction. “. . . I think we won’t know until the last minute and there’s as good a chance it won’t work as it will. Joe says a Brownie says the Pixies say . . .”
Leaning away, Charlie stared at her. “Seriously?”
“. . . that Jack opened the gate to the UnderRealm and went through with another dragon.”
“Which one?”
“They didn’t say. Just that he was older.”
“They’re all older.”
“Pixies.”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“The Pixies said there was no bloodshed, so it was probably Adam.” Adam was the oldest of Jack’s uncles and had the least to prove. “If the Dragon Lords found out about the asteroid . . .”
“How?”
“The Courts?”
Charlie shrugged in a works for me kind of way so Allie continued. “Maybe Adam came through to convince Jack to go home and Jack, in turn, convinced Adam to go with him to the Courts.” She’d come up with that possibility during the interminable climb up the stairs.
“That’s a tidy wrap-up, but a lot of assumptions.” Charlie flipped her phone from hand to hand. “He didn’t say good-bye.”
“Probably because he knew you’d try to stop him.”
“Damn right I’d try to stop him.”
“If the Courts can teach him . . .”
“He’ll pay in pain, Allie. And in humiliation for feeling it.”
She could feel Charlie trembling and knew it wasn’t from the cold.
