Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  He thought for a moment. “Don’t suppose y’could turn time back about a decade, could ya?”

  She shook her head, and a tear splashed on her hand. “If I could…The past cannot be changed, only the futures.” She paused. “I am only permitted to do small, very, very small things. Greater things require a miracle, and for a miracle, one must sacrifice something equally miraculous.” She sighed. “That is…the only ‘loophole’ in the Law of Free Will.”

  And I would sacrifice anything if I knew it would help you.

  “S’alright. I wasn’t holding out too much hope for turning back the clock.” He leaned forward, rubbing the back of his head. She could see past his outer self; see the drugs coursing through his veins, helping to keep him conscious and able. He was tired, spent. But he was still continuing forward; he’d set his mind to a course of action, and he would not be deterred.

  “I can grant you a little more strength.”

  “I wouldn’t turn ya down for it. There are bad guys that need killing, still.” He removed the glove off of his hand, the one with the Ouroboros tattoo, and held it out for her. He’d lost his aversion to contact with her what seemed like so long ago, with their first kiss, along with his unwillingness to look at her for more than a moment.

  She touched the back of his hand with a careful finger, and allowed the strength and Grace to flow from her into him. And if other things came with it…so be it. She would not hide that she cared deeply for him.

  He sighed, and some of the color returned to his face. He seemed stronger, less drawn, more substantial. “I suppose I just need ya to keep being there. For the neighborhood, for the CCCP. For me.” He looked at her solemnly. “It’s gonna get a lot worse before it get’s any better, y’know. For everyone.”

  He had no idea how much worse. She sought for permission, and found it. “There are very, very few futures in which…it does become better, John. Most end in a very bad place. So bad that even the Infinite, which does not interfere, has placed me here to do what I may. So yes. I know.”

  John shook his head. “I don’t need to hear that, Sera. Really an’ truly.”

  She tilted her head to the side in that birdlike way she had. “You are thinking. You know I cannot see your thoughts unless you allow it. What are you thinking?”

  He frowned, his brows knitting together. “It’s not exactly all that easy to put into words, now that y’ask.” He was quiet for several moments, collecting his thoughts. “It’s kinda like this, I figure it. From when I was young, my old man had always told me that just ’cause I was me, if I put my mind to it, I was a cut above the rest. An’ that I had to strive to make sure I made the most of the potential I had, that anybody had. So long as y’put your mind to it, you couldn’t be stopped. That’s what he thought.” John’s eyes scanned the ground as he nudged some leaves out of the way with his boot. “That got reinforced big time when I was in the Rangers, then Delta. I literally was one of the best out there, for what I did. Cultivatin’ a ‘never-say-die’ attitude was a big part of being able to make it and keep up with everyone else. It’s as much a part of me as anything, now.”

  She could not “read” him as she could read others. But she knew him now, perhaps better than anyone else but Bella. Perhaps better than Bella. “There is much you are not saying.”

  He flashed a smile. “You usin’ your voodoo on me, Sera?” There was something different in his voice when he said her name, this time. Something unguarded that was familiar to her, but she couldn’t immediately recognize.

  “You know I cannot unless you allow it.” She regarded him gravely. “And I will go only so far as you allow without reservation. No…this is only…knowing you.”

  “Well, bein’ brought up like that, having that indomitable, unstoppable attitude ingrained in me…it’s makin’ all of this really hard. I’ve been taught that with the proper application of force, you can get through anything. Obstacles are only things I haven’t torn through yet, that sorta thing. This is one problem that I have that I can’t just will myself through. I’m scared shitless, actually, because even though I know what I’m gonna do, I just don’t know if I can.”

  She ached for him; her heart cried out for him. “No one ever does.”

  “The worst thing for me in the world is to let my friends down. I can’t let myself do that. I need to keep going.” There was a lot of pain in his voice, now. He was being extremely open with her; it was different from just allowing her to read his memories. This was willful, open admittance of his worst fears.

  She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “John, if you fear what comes beyond…John, do you believe in me? Believe, at last, that I am what I am?” At least that fear she could take from him.

  He grinned lop-sidedly, again. That grin. Such a very characteristic and personal trait that he possessed. “Y’convinced me of that awhile ago, Sera. No, it’s just I’m afraid of losing. Lettin’ people that depend on me down…an’ losing people.”

  “No one would ever think that of you,” she replied forcefully. “Not that you willfully let them down. This was not something you wanted nor planned. This just…happened. And if you fear that others will turn from you…” She swallowed. There was a strange and painful lump in her throat that she had never had before. She blinked back more tears. “I will never leave you. I will never desert you. I will…” She could not continue, strangely. Words deserted her. She looked up into his eyes, pleading with him to understand. Their gazes met, and she felt a sudden sense of shock. There was something unspoken and momentous there. She went very still, waiting. She did not know for what, she only knew it would change everything, and that it was something only he could say.

  John was looking directly at her, now. And what he saw was both the “human” form she sometimes adopted around him to put him at his ease, and something he had only glimpsed in the briefest of moments, never for long. The Seraphim, a creature all fire and spirit, a slender thing of light with wings of fire and glowing, bottomless eyes full of clear, pure power that looked past the surface of everything and into infinity. And those eyes were riveted on his, reflecting his pain and fear. And in those eyes, he saw a pain that mirrored his own that was all hers.

  He spoke slowly, measuring his words and letting them roll around in his mouth. “I’m here for you, too, Angel. For every moment I have left. If you’ll have me, Sera.”

  For a moment, understanding deserted her. If she would have him? What—

  And then, with a shock as great as the moment she had immersed herself into this world and become incarnate, she understood. He was offering himself. To her. That was what she had seen, and not recognized until this moment. He loved her, loved her as a human and mortal man, loved her as if she was as human and mortal as he. And she knew how much that cost him, how hard it had been to open himself again, to permit himself to care, and to love. And more. To admit it. Yes, they had been kissing, touching, but until now she had not considered it as anything nearly as deep as what he had just offered. Eros, without deeper commitment, at least on his part. Something he had needed, as part of the way to break down the walls between him and the rest of the world. This was so much more. This was all of him, given with the knowledge and fear of possible rejection, to her. Sacrifice on his part, of everything that had kept him apart from another, for so many long years. Now, at the last, he had bid to open himself, rather than close himself away, fighting his own instincts to do so.

  “Oh…my love…” she whispered, still reeling from the impact of it. And that was when she understood, at last, what had been in her own heart. He loved her. And she, she loved him.

  The Seraphim were the embodiment of the love of the Infinite for all of creation, and reflected back that love to the Infinite. It was a boundless love and yet…yet it was to this very human love as the countless memories of taste and touch were to actually tasting, actually touching. The love of the Seraphim was more and yet…somehow less. It had no immediacy. It was less r
eal for that.

  She could not breathe for joy. “My dearest, my beloved—”

  John didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned close, pulling her hand into his hands. He rested his brow on hers, sighing in relief. He was still very tired, but she could see that she had responded in the way that he had hoped.

  She was swimming in a sea of very human emotions, experiencing them for the first time directly. There was shock, the most incredible elation, wonder that such a thing could happen to her, such a gift be given for them to share. The question Is this permitted? was answered immediately with Love is always permitted which only doubled her joy.

  And then came grief. This amazing, wondrous miracle that had grown between them was a flower that was, all too quickly, going to be cut and wither. His last days would be spent in terrible pain. She and Bella could ease that to some extent, but not altogether, and it would be worse at the end.

  But of all things, the worst was this. A soul went to the afterlife it expected and believed in, and John Murdock, for all that he professed belief in her, truly expected only oblivion. If he died and sealed himself in a sort of self-created Sheol of nothingness, he would never win free again.

  That was unacceptable. For both their sakes she must help him in ways he could not even imagine at this moment. Ways that she could hardly imagine herself.

  “I will help you, beloved. In everything.” She took the hand he had given her and held it to her wet cheek. “Whatever I have shall be yours.” She did not know what else to do, but he did. He took her in his arms, and bent his head; she raised her face to his, and they kissed, and for as long as that kiss lasted, there was nothing else that mattered.

  They sat together, embraced and embracing, until long after darkness fell, as her light burned defiance against the shadows.

  Running Up That Hill

  Mercedes Lackey and Cody Martin

  Sera looked curiously around John’s “squat.” This was the first time she had been inside his building, but something told her that he was going to be too dispirited to make the climb to the roof tonight. And, truth to tell…this was the first time she had felt as if she would be welcome in this, his very private space.

  But he had offered her his heart. There was no more private space than a person’s heart. How strange, that they had shared a few embraces, kisses that seemed playful, like the first kisses of almost-children, and had actually led to something so deep. Is this how it always starts with humans? It all seems simple, casual, until somehow one is ambushed by abiding love?

  The walls and floor of the single room had been deeply engrimed with enough built up dirt and oil that they had been stained the color of dark wood. The old mattress on the floor had definitely seen better days. But as she looked about her, curiously, taking in the carefully ordered books, the single, battered lamp, and few, Spartan possessions he had managed to accumulate, it began to speak to her.

  As she closed her eyes and tried to get a better sense of John from this place that he called “home,” she lost track of time and place.

  The numerous locks on the door each disengaged and turned at that moment, and John entered. He startled her. A flash of something more than light engulfed her and the squat for a moment. His hand flew to the grip of his pistol; he hadn’t expected anyone to be inside of his squat, and though he must felt a flash of something, he had not recognized it. The suspicion immediately faded from his face when he saw it to be Sera, and not some sort of malcontent. And there was something else that shouted for his attention: the squat and everything in it had been somehow been scoured down to the bare cement. It was no less shabby, but now it was impossibly clean. How she had managed that, he had no idea. “It cleans, too. You’re a wonder, love.” He strode in, smiling widely.

  Sera could see that he was tired, however, and not just from the exertions of the day. He was pale, and sweating. She held out her hands to him, and felt how drained he was. She did her best to pour strength into him, but it was, ultimately, like pouring water into a container that still had a hole in the bottom of it. It made her heart ache. “It is a talent I did not know I had until now, beloved,” she said, trying to bring a smile to him. “Perhaps I should advertise it?”

  “Naw, I’ve got the bills paid for. Besides, I wanna keep ya all for myself.” He shrugged off his bulletproof vest and duty belt, dropping both to the floor. “I’m gonna grab a shower, get all of this patrol dirt offa me. The Commissar has made me her favorite whipping boy, lately.”

  “Have you told her?” She did not have to say what.

  John called from the tiny bathroom as the water started for the shower. “Nope. But I’ll have to soon enough.” It was in his nature to not want to be a burden to others, to be self-reliant. But this was different; this was no fault of his own, and it was much too grave.

  Her heart ached for him, even as she wondered at his courage. She settled on the now-clean, if still-battered couch to wait for him. A conviction was growing in her that it was time, perhaps, to use more than mere words with him. And as she asked, silently, if this too would be permitted, the affirmative answer somehow did not surprise her. Whatever was going on, John Murdock was as important to the Infinite as he was to her, now.

  She made herself as human as she could, banished even the thought of clothing, and paced silently into the bathroom. He was just stepping from the crude shower, and had a towel in his hands, and stared at her in dazed astonishment. He opened his mouth to say—something. It did not really matter what. She did not give him the chance.

  She went to him, put her arms around him, and pressed herself to him.

  “Sera—” he choked.

  “Hush,” she whispered, and kissed him. The towel dropped to the floor.

  It had been a very long time for him; at first, she knew, he had been too concerned with running. Then he had been mourning for his lost love. And at last, when that wound had subsided into an aching scar, he had been concerned with survival, and not just his own, though he wouldn’t admit it openly. Any woman he was with could potentially be a hunter, or a victim of his hunters.

  But now, no matter what he had consciously decided, his body had its own priorities, and made them urgently known. And there was this: he was dying, and the body, knowing it is dying, instinctively yearns for life and will do nearly anything to perpetuate life.

  It was a good thing that the mattress that passed for a bed was only a few steps away.

  Despite his urgency, he was a gentle and considerate lover, and again, Sera discovered to her astonishment that the memories of others are nothing compared to the real experience itself. Together they joined in fire and joy, in the nearest thing that mortals could do to becoming one.

  They lay beside each other in silence for time; she had the feeling that he was feeling stunned. She understood that something profound had just happened between them, something far beyond the mere physical act. Something to tie him to this mortal life, perhaps? Something to alter that terrible resignation to his fate?

  But why, when there was no hope?

  Finally, at last, he spoke. “Well, that’s one for the journal.”

  She blinked. “Journal? What journal?”

  He grinned lopsidedly, waving his hand. “Remind me to tell y’later. How was yer day?”

  She raised herself on one elbow and regarded him for a moment, then nestled close into his side. His arm closed around her shoulders instinctively, before he even had a chance to think about what they had just done. It felt astonishingly natural. “An encounter with a Blacksnake operative. Some rescues. I told a child a story.” She kept herself human; that too felt right.

  “Blacksnake, huh? Hope you didn’t mess ’em up too much. Commissar would be distraught if her favorite punching bags were put outta business.”

  She thought about Fei Li, and the strange, intent look the General had gotten when the sword struck her. If she had been human, she would have shivered. “Not…that one would notice. But it was unpleasant
.” She decided to change the subject, quickly. “There are things I must speak of, beloved.”

  He sat up straighter, angling himself so that he could see her face. He could tell by her tone that it was something important. “Shoot, love.”

  “You know of the Infinite. Of the great Law of Free Will. You know why I am…constrained to do as little as I can. This—” she waved her hand a little at the clean floor and walls. “This is in that nature; it changes nothing for me to do this, such things come as breathing does to you. But…beloved…” she felt herself starting to weep. “I know you have asked inside yourself why I have not saved your friends, saved you—”

  He was already shaking his head. “Sera, I don’t blame you—”

  “Blame? Not, perhaps, but the question—I have heard it, even when you have not spoken it. And the greater question; why has the Infinite allowed it?” She took a deep breath. “And you listen to my words, but they are only words. You see me, what I am, you believe in me, and yet, you do not believe beyond that.” Anguish threaded her. She blinked, and shook her head to free her eyes of tears. “Do you want to believe?”

  John bit his lip; she wasn’t used to seeing him conflicted in this manner, nor was he used to seeing her this troubled. “Sera…by what y’probably are, there can’t be any proof. I’m an agnostic, in that sense; I take it for granted that the definition of any sorta ‘Higher Power’ leaves it impossible to prove or disprove.” He shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “I’ve seen the worst of people, and the worst of myself. I know we couldn’t prove or disprove a god, but I don’t believe that one would exist that would let Evil exist. It just doesn’t make sense.”

  How to show him? How to—not make him, understand, because forcing was the last thing she wanted to do, but bring him, by his own will and reason, to understanding? “Evil…evil is a choice.” She tried to concentrate on finding the right words, ignoring the pain in her heart.