Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  He smiled, and she could sense that he felt as if he were humoring her. “If we really wanna get into the philosophical implications of Evil and how it disproves an all-loving, all-powerful entity, we could, love. But that’d take awhile”

  “Beloved, I have heard all these things before. Mortals have been making these arguments since life began. I am old, old. I am of the Firstborn.” She closed her eyes, trying to think. “Listen. This is no mere story. Before there were such things as Time and Space, the Infinite said ‘I Am,’ and that is what your scientists recognize as the moment when Time and Space came into being. And immediately after that moment, the Infinite knew there were two courses that could be taken. The Infinite could create and control everything. And there would be no evil, all would be harmonious and beautiful and dead. Stagnation. Nothing would ever change, for why change perfection? Or…the Infinite could forever hold itself apart from creation, and make the First Law that of Free Will and Free Choice, and allow the universe to evolve as it would. There would be evil, yes. Terrible things would happen. Those creatures that evolved would sometimes tear themselves and others apart, and there would be pain and death and sorrow. But…they would grow. They would become. That is what the Infinite chose, as a good parent chooses to stand aside and let his child grow and become. But that is also when the Firstborn were created, who are less, who cannot see all, so that sometimes, sometimes, when an instrument was needed, when a peril was so great as to threaten even more than just a world, there would be help.” Some day, perhaps, she would tell him of the Fallen; it was not the time for that now. “We are, if not mortal, the Finite interacting with the Finite. We have less Free Will than mortals, but that is because we trust more, and because we have more power. With great power comes—”

  “—great responsibility?” he quipped.

  “The need to do the most with the least,” she corrected. “I could level a world. I must use only what is absolutely needed, with the least amount of interference. I must not ever interfere with the exercise of Free Will, even when the choice is for evil.” As it was for Dominic Verdigris…There had been that moment, that single, telling moment at his party, when he could have taken the path for such good.…

  He held up a hand, still unconvinced and changing the course of the conversation. “Discounting the problems with Moral Evil, what about Physical Evil? Natural disasters, plagues, and the like? It just doesn’t hold water, with the logic that’s available to frail ’uns like me, dear.”

  Unexpectedly, without her even thinking to ask, she heard the Voice within her. Bring him.

  “Death is so far from being the end of life that physical evil does not matter…please, may I show you?” she begged, clutching his hand in both of hers, looking up at him pleadingly. If only he could see…that would bring the understanding. Surely, surely.

  John shrugged. “You’re certainly welcome to try. I don’t know how y’could, dear, but—”

  She held his hand tightly. He had given permission. Now, the rest was as easy for her as breathing was for a mortal. She concentrated a moment, gathered him to her, and enveloped them both in the Glory. Time stopped. She gathered all her strength, and made the Leap. In that moment, she brought him to the Heart of All Time.

  This, for her, was home. She became Light within the Light, immersed in the sound that was the Song of Creation, the great music that came from her siblings and constantly changed as creation itself changed. More than immersion, it was completion, and she gave herself up to the pure joy of it. Here she was most truly herself, no longer subject to the laws of the physical, mortal universe.

  Beside her was John; stubbornly clinging to what he knew, he looked exactly as the mortal self that had been lying beside her, as he pictured himself. Here where all things were possible, he retained his worldly form as he thought of himself; clothing, expression, and scars. She, of course, was her truest form; a slender creature of pure white light, with a halo of wings that resembled wisping ethereal fire, with only a suggestion of a face in which her golden eyes burned, and only his will imparted to her the sense of femaleness.

  Initially, John panicked. He flailed in place, trying to right himself where an ‘up’ didn’t exist. He looked bewildered, frightened…and then his face softened. Curiosity overcame his sense of awe and fear. He waited a few heartbeats in a place where time had no meaning. “Sera…love…where on Earth are we?”

  Not on Earth at all. This is the realm of the Firstborn and the Siblings, the Heart of All Time. The Infinite itself is here, insofar as you could say that it is anywhere. Perhaps it is truer to say that the Infinite is visible and manifest here. Everything is possible here, and all that ever has been is remembered here.

  “So, this…this is Heaven?” Still accustomed to speaking, John did so, even though there was no air to breathe as such.

  There was a sense of joyous laughter. There are as many Heavens as there are beings to imagine them. This is beyond those. This is the purest place of being beyond death.

  He looked mortified. “Am I dead, then?”

  A “wing” caressed him tenderly. No, beloved. Rarely, we can bring someone here. You have been granted that gift. Best beloved, this is to prove to you—death is not an ending, and forgiveness is always possible.

  “And…Hell? Does that exist? There’s gotta be an opposite for every reward—”

  They were joined at that moment by another presence. Not as bright, or as shining as Sera. But it was one that “felt” so familiar to John that he was startled—

  “Who are you?” John was still guarded, still suspicious, even here.

  Like Sera, the newcomer “spoke” without speaking. Forgotten me already? A laugh, like one he knew, but without the pain that had always colored that laugh, as the light took on colors and a shape. Hell, John, I am crushed.

  “I—” He looked at Sera, upset and confused. “Love, what’s going on here? I don’t understand.”

  The newcomer chuckled as her form became as mortal as his. A young woman with freckles, intense brown eyes, shoulder-length brown hair and a firm jaw, wearing fatigue pants and a black t-shirt. Tanned and muscled, she was clearly a fighter, but the huge, guileless grin on her face said that she didn’t feel the need to fight here, and the gleam of her eyes was a reflection of the joy that Sera radiated. “It’s just more proof for you, lover.” Jessica turned in place for him. “See? It’s me. All here.”

  “Jessica…how?” John’s facade of toughness cracked, then shattered, and he began to cry; first silently, then with harsh, tight, small sobs that sounded as if they were being torn from him.

  When Jessie had been murdered, he hadn’t wept; he’d snapped. He hadn’t cried for her, properly mourned her loss, in all that time. In all the long years since, he had not cried. Not all the times when he had been a heartbeat from ending it all. Not when he had been sure his parents were dead, killed in the Invasion. Never.

  Now he did. Now, finally, the last barrier had broken, and the grief was overwhelming. He mourned for the loss of Jessie, for the loss of everything he had been, for the terrible things he had done, for what he had become.

  “How is this possible? You’ve been—gone,” he looked down, not willing to state that she was dead. “Gone for six years. How are you talking to me?”

  “You mean dead? Just the shell, hon. Like old clothes. The shell wasn’t me any more than that nasty old uniform they made us wear was.” She put both hands around his face, and gazed intently into his eyes. “Sera’s right. Everything’s possible here. Death doesn’t end us, I’m your proof. Remember that poem you used to quote? Though lovers be lost love shall not; And death shall have no dominion. Forgiveness is there if you want it, I’m proof of that too.”

  John’s whole body shook with grief and despair. “There’s so much I haven’t said. So much wrong I’ve done, Jess. It’s too much, all of it. I can’t ever make it up. I can’t ever make it better again.” He hung his head. “I don’t deserve forgivenes
s.”

  Sera’s light throbbed, as a heartbeat throbbed, and the beat was compassion. This is the Infinite, John. Would you put limits on what the Infinite can do?

  He didn’t respond, locked within his own terrible sorrow.

  You asked me of Hell. Hell is within you, within all thinking creatures. As they make their own Heavens, they make their own Hells, and if they cannot see past them, if they cannot reach for the forgiveness that is freely offered, and as freely make reparation, they dwell in them. A feeling of sadness too terrible for tears swept over all three of them.

  “It was all my fault, though.” He looked up through tears to see Jessica beside him, her pose a mirror of Sera’s. “It’s all my fault. I didn’t do it right, I didn’t stop things before they went too far. I took out the innocent along with the guilty.” He shook his head, still sobbing pitifully. “It’s my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Jessica blazed up with anger, losing her form for a moment. “All your fault? What about the people that tortured us, tried to break us, murdered me? Was that your fault too?”

  “I didn’t do anything. I didn’t stop ’em, didn’t disagree. All I did was kill ’em.” He shook harder, violently. “That’s all I am. A killer.”

  Around them, the light dimmed, and darkness spread from him. The Song turned to one of mourning. Shocks of purple, like permanent lightning, shot through the Heart of All Time, spider-webbing through it. It came to Sera that they resembled his scars; scars of mind and soul as much as of the body.

  And so you reject forgiveness? Sera’s “voice” trembled with anguish. You would dwell in your own Hell forever?

  Her despair seemed to flow outward to match his. Sparks of muted bronze floated away from her. Tears?

  Only Jessica seemed unchanged. If anything, she burned brighter, yet softer. “You damn well better not reject my forgiveness, goof. You didn’t kill me. You did your best to protect me, the same as I did my best to protect you. Look at me!” She laughed, spread her arms, and twirled, like a little girl in a playground, spinning off ribbons of brightness, “The things I’ve seen! The things I can do! It’s—more than I dreamed—more than I ever thought was possible!”

  “I’m so sorry, Jess. Nothin’ happened like it should’ve.” The darkness deepened around him, around all of them. Sera’s “tears” burned through the darkness, cutting glowing paths in it.

  Jessie threw her arms around him. “Nothing ever does, lover. Listen. Hell, would an angel love you if you weren’t worthy to be forgiven? Would I? Believe. Believe in me, believe in yourself. Believe this. I forgive you. And death shall have no dominion.”

  At those words, there was a moment of anticipation, as everything in that place waited on his answer, his acceptance or rejection of what Jessie offered. And then, John’s body dissolved in an instant of a too-brilliant burst of flame. A new John in the shape of a man took his place, but one of all fire, brightness and pure flame. The darkness that had engulfed all of them burned away in that flash of light and the Song rang out with joy.

  It occurred to John that he appeared exactly as the red-headed teen in New York had, before he had died and been carried away by one of the Seraphim.

  Sera laughed like the ringing of bells, her wings spreading to cover half the sky. Beloved! You see! You understand!

  “He always was the most hard-headed sonuvabitch.” Jessica embraced him in a way more intimate than he had ever felt before, except with Sera. “Now that you’re thinking sense, I have to go.” She grinned “My work here is done. Guess that makes me a big damn hero, huh?”

  Will I ever see you again? His fires blazed brightly, flickering in the Light of the Heart.

  “Silly. I’m always here, forever—unless I decide to put on another set of clothes and go play with a life again. If you want to see me, you will. If you want to be with me, you will.” She embraced him again. “Now you go be happy while you can. Feel again. Live—don’t just survive—as much as you can. And hang on to that pigheaded nature of yours. You’ll need it on the road ahead.” She changed back into her form of light. “And love your angel. Love is the most important thing there is.”

  And then, she was gone, flashing off in every direction, and none. John took a deep breath, and wondered if there was something he should do, or say—Sera had brought Jessie to him, it seemed. Should he thank her? Or—

  One comes. Sera’s voice had suddenly changed, sounding as full of awe as his had been. This…was not expected.…

  If he had thought that Sera was “bright,” the newcomer was incandescent. It appeared in an instant, as if it had stepped out of some door that was not visible beside them. It had “wings” that seemed to stretch out forever.

  First and Fairest, I…we…greet you. Sera didn’t exactly “bow,” but that was the impression John got. Beloved, this is one of the First among the Firstborn. He has been called Michael Azir. The being held him, gravely, in his gaze. John held his place. He felt like he had in New York, upon first being Seen by one of the Seraphim; like an insect at the end of a microscope, with a giant looking down. It was unnerving, but he didn’t let the slightest ripple of emotion show in his form.

  John Murdock. There was a suggestion of a chuckle. Seducer of the Firstborn. You succeed where even the Fallen have not.

  Couldn’t say that I’m all that special enough to warrant it; I’m not the strongest, or the smartest, an’ certainly not the fairest. Might be the toughest, but I don’t figure that’s my best selling point.

  The being laughed, then sobered. More special than you think. There is…will be…something extraordinary permitted to you.

  It was as if the entire Heart of All Time held its breath. The Song didn’t falter, but muted; still vibrant, but reserved. The tension and anticipation clung to John’s mind.

  You know that the Seraphym—your Sera—may not heal you. But—The being bent to him, and Michael Azir’s regard took on weight. She may save you. At a cost. For a miracle to occur, something equally miraculous must be sacrificed. That is the way in which the Law of Free Will can be upheld. You, John Murdock, will not die just yet. If you choose. But the Seraphym must give over her Grace and become mortal. She will no longer see the futures, no longer be able to Leap here, no longer hear the Song. That is the cost to her. A pause. There may be further cost to you, to her. I cannot say. Even I cannot read the futures this course will trace; this is new, unprecedented. Only the Infinite may know, and it is not permitted to me to see it.

  John stayed silent for a moment. And if I decide that the cost is too great? If I choose to die?

  Then you die. Nothing is simpler. And she must…find another path.

  What does that mean?

  You choose. You accept her gift and live, or do not and die. It is not permitted to me to say further. Nor is it permitted to any other being to sway your decision. You need not choose now, but choose you must. Not choosing will still be a choice. As abruptly as he had appeared, the being vanished. And without a word, Sera wrapped John in her wings, Sang a single note—

  And they were back, as they had been on the broken-down mattress in his squat.

  John snapped to consciousness first. He saw Sera as he had when she first appeared to him on the outskirts of Atlanta; a beautiful creature, inhuman, and made of fire and light. He realized in that very instant the enormity of what she was willing to give up for him; immortality, power beyond imagining, and her own sense of self and belonging. Not just belonging to a family, a country, even a people; belonging to the greatest Other there was. She was willing to give up what best passed for Heaven…and for him. How could he ask her to do that?

  A second later, she was back; changed to her more comfortable, more “human” form of an unbelievably beautiful woman with a silken fall of hair so red it defined the word. But as innocently unclothed as Eve. “You want to know,” she said. “You need to know? Would I? Yes. Yes, and yes, and yes again. I would. I can. I will. Because I must. Because I can. Because I love y
ou.”

  They did not so much embrace as cling to one another.

  For a second, John thought he heard a whisper.

  Go on, stud. Be happy. The moment was perfect, in their love for one another and in the sadness of the choice that needed to be made. For John, for them both, and for the world.

  He felt rejuvenated; was that as much because of this new “out” as it was being in Sera’s arms? Or was it because of being in that—place? Whichever, he couldn’t be human, and a man, without having the natural reaction to having a very beautiful naked creature who loved him with all her heart in his arms. And without being blind, she could not have missed that reaction. She laughed soundlessly, and kissed him, and the ancient dance began again. This time he took a lot of care with it, lingering, stretching it out. Not just because he wanted to give her all the pleasure he could, which he did. Because in the back of his mind, his thoughts were a turmoil.

  As wonderful as this new joy was—and was it ever wonderful—he couldn’t shake the feeling, the nagging voice at the back of his mind that he had only traded one set of worries for another. This was all happening too fast for him; he was having a difficult time coping with the curveballs that life kept throwing him. Kriegers, he could deal with. Blacksnake, he could deal with. Dying, he had just gotten used to the idea of dealing with. Loving Sera…he was more than happy to deal with that. But what of this offer that Michael Azir had given him?

  She may save you. At a cost.

  John had been resigned to losing everything of himself for a long time; he had done his best to hide it, to mask it with honor and duty, but he might as well have been dead the day he “left” the Program. Now…he had everything to lose, all over again. Friends like Bella and Vic, renewed and clean duty to his neighborhood people, even a kind of family in the CCCP. And now, most of all, Sera. Against every odds, he’d found love again.

  But to keep it, he would have to ask the one person he had come to cherish more than anything to give up…everything. Sera kept telling him that he was important to the futures; he trusted her, and now more than ever believed in her and what she professed. What John couldn’t believe was that he was nearly important enough to outweigh what Sera could do, even with the constraints placed upon her nearly immeasurable power.