by Rachel Caine
For now. Until she had all she wanted.
The enemy of my enemy… would never be my friend. Never.
“I’ll still destroy you,” I told her. “This is just a small breathing space. Enjoy it while it lasts, Pearl.”
Her smile widened, lost its formal grace and became a thing of true, horrific amusement. “Charming,” she said. “And now you can go explain to Isabel why you’re allowing me to help these people. You made her promises, didn’t you, that you’d fight me at every turn? And now you must break them.”
She was right.
I said nothing, and I left the conference room door open as I walked away to the stairs. Five flights went too quickly, but I was glad of the slight distraction of the activity. I wanted to run now. Run until my body was full and my mind was empty.
Run from everything.
Upstairs, Luis rose from his chair and said, “Cass? Are you okay?” Isabel came slowly around the table, tentative and worried. I don’t know what they saw in me, but whatever it might have been, it must have mirrored the blackness inside me.
“Pearl’s here,” I said. “And we need her. We can’t fight her now. I’m sorry.”
Isabel’s eyes widened. “The Lady’s here?”
“Yes.” It hurt me that there was only a little fear in Iz’s eyes, mixed with a larger portion of excitement. It wasn’t her fault. Pearl had taken her from us, and she’d twisted Isabel in so many ways—not just waking her powers prematurely, but convincing the girl that it was for her own good. She’d convinced Iz that her uncle hadn’t loved her, that I had betrayed her, that Isabel could only trust herself, in the end.
Pearl had destroyed Iz’s childhood, but she’d made her strong, and the Isabel that existed now valued that more than anything else. More: Pearl had made the child love her, in a way that I never could.
I tried not to feel a rush of hatred for that, and despair, but I was honest enough now to admit that I deeply wanted that love from Isabel, that unconditional devotion; I wanted to give it in return. But Pearl had precedence, and Iz couldn’t trust me, not completely.
I was not born to be a mother, it seemed.
“Where is she?” Iz breathed.
“Doesn’t matter,” Luis said. “We’re not going anywhere near her. Cass, have you lost your fucking mind? You can’t let her near Isabel!”
He hadn’t seen the map, hadn’t felt the gut-wrenching power of the true scope of what we faced. I knew that, but still, the disbelieving betrayal in his face made me hurt. “Talk to Brennan,” I said. “I promise you, this is what must happen. Not what I want, but what we need. Just talk to him, and decide for yourself. I won’t interfere.”
“You let him mess with your head,” Luis said. He was tense and angry now, fists clenched. “You were the one who called Orwell and laid down the law, damn you. You said—”
“I know what I said,” I interrupted him, just as tightly furious. “But we won’t live to see the dawn unless we work with her. We won’t, Luis. There are no angels to rescue us. Only devils, and we must take whatever hand is offered now.”
He shook his head and stalked out—no doubt, in search of Brennan. Isabel gave me a last, silent look and followed, and I sank down in a chair and put my aching head in my hands. I had never felt so trapped, or so human.
I had sworn I would never accept a peace with Pearl, but now… now I’d not only done it, I’d promised cooperation.
The enemy of my enemy…
“Mother,” I whispered, close to tears. “How could you desert us? How could you bring us to this?”
But the Mother had never spoken to me, not directly, and she did not do so now. There was only darkness, and silence.
I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but it seemed like only moments before someone was shaking me by the shoulder. I hadn’t meant to sleep, and wasn’t sure that I had, really, but the momentary shame and confusion was burned away by the sight of Luis’s face, and the urgency of his voice.
“Come on,” he said. “We need you. Now.”
I followed him at a run down the hall. We slammed through the fire door and onto the concrete steps, which he took two at a time, running at a careless speed that held no concern for his own safety. Five floors down, we came on the locked door. He had no card, but before I could find the one I’d been given, he extended a hand and simply melted the lock of the door. “Stupid anyway,” he muttered. “What the fuck is there to steal now? Money? No damn use at all.”
The hallway was busy with people coming and going, but they parted for Luis as he shoved through; we passed the small room that Pearl had been in, but both she and the four children were gone, leaving sleeping bags, plates, and glasses scattered carelessly around.
They were all in the main room, all the Wardens. Pearl and her four followers were there, too, standing slightly apart. She looked calm and detached, but unsmiling—at least until she caught sight of me.
“What is it?” I asked Luis. He ignored the question as he pushed through the standing crowd of Wardens. Isabel was at the front, standing with Brennan. Even Esmeralda had come out, I saw; she was coiled up in the back corner of the room, and had lifted her human torso up to see over those in the way. Her eyes had gone slitted and reptilian.
I didn’t need an answer, because my eyes fell on the board, and the Warden who was pulling out pins from an area of the map in the middle of the country. It had been filled with yellow and red, blue and black… but all the pins were being removed and dumped in boxes.
There were tears on the Warden’s pale face, and she paused to wipe them with the back of a hand before she continued.
Then she took a black marker and drew a thick diagonal line through the open space. Then another, crossing it.
“We’ve lost control of most of the Midwest,” Luis said. “St. Louis is gone; it’s a goddamn heap of junk after the last earthquake. Kansas City is badly damaged, too many dead to count; everything’s in chaos now, people fighting for food, cars, gas.… It’s all coming apart. Still some communities holding together, mostly smaller towns, but tornadoes are targeting them specifically, ripping them up one by one. Too much, too fast. Brennan had to pull the surviving Wardens out when the Djinn began coming after them directly.”
I looked around at the others. There were more tears, and silence so deep and aching that it made me tremble.
Brennan finally said, “We don’t have time to grieve. I’m sorry. I know everyone knows someone who’s been affected by this—the losses are enormous, and shocking, and I’m sorry we can’t give it the attention it deserves. I’m sorry that the dead can’t be honored now. But there are living people we need to save, and we still can save them, if we stay focused. You’re doing it, people. You’re making a difference. We knew this would happen, so don’t let it stop you.”
There were a few nods, and some gulped back their tears and wiped their faces. The Warden who’d drawn the X through a tri-state area of the nation put down the marker and stepped back, head bowed. I saw her lips moving in silent prayer.
I wondered how many bodies lay dead and unburied there. How many millions of lives had just been lost, or were being lost, right now. We were abandoning them to their fates.
It seemed heartless, but I could see that it was a choice the Wardens had to make. We couldn’t grieve. We couldn’t count costs. We couldn’t worry about enemies, and the future, and what might happen tomorrow.
Surviving this eternal, exhausting day would be achievement enough.
Pearl said, in a soft but carrying voice, “I have followers near the borders of Missouri. They will take up stations at the borders.”
“Can they fight off a hundred Djinn?” Brennan snapped. “Don’t throw away lives. Those Djinn will do anything they want, and we can’t stop them.”
“I can,” Pearl said with perfect calm. “I have a weapon that will destroy any Djinn who touches it.”
There was silence again, but in the silence I felt the electric surg
e of hope that raced around the room, leaping from human to human like a wildfire. “What kind of weapon?” Brennan asked. He didn’t want to commit, I realized, but even so, he was seduced.
As she’d intended.
“Me,” Pearl said, and bowed slightly. “I can destroy the Djinn. And you must help me accomplish it.”
Pearl had won, and I knew it. In the face of such disaster, such enormous losses of life as were piling up now, there was nothing that the Wardens could do but accept her, regardless of any later consequences or costs. Even I acknowledged it.
But not Luis.
“Are you kidding me?” he whispered furiously. “This is nuts! They’re just going to roll over for her, just like that! Kill the Djinn—are they insane? The Djinn are the only thing that have a hope in hell of stopping her!”
We were standing off to ourselves in a corner of the large room; the Wardens had drifted back to their desks, not so much to work as to process all the overwhelming flood of information in solitude. As for Pearl, she had settled in the opposite corner of the room, looking calm and smug; her children had gathered around her, sitting in a semicircle on the floor. They didn’t speak. Neither did she. I supposed that it would have been unnecessary, as thoroughly as she owned them now.
Isabel hadn’t joined them, but neither had she joined us. She was standing against the wall near Esmeralda, watching all of this with uncertain intensity. I wanted to give her some kind of surety, but I had none myself to share.
“They’re not so insane,” I said. “Think of all the Wardens have suffered these past years, and often at the hands of the Djinn; from the moment that the Djinn were released from their bonds, they’ve been dangerous to mortals, and especially to the ones who’d once held them captive. After all, my people have a very long memory. That distrust and hate might have gone on for millennia, even without any other problems to complicate it. Humans hate, but they forgive. Djinn… cannot forget, and don’t often forgive.”
“So what are you telling me, that you agree with her? That you want the Djinn dead?”
“Of course not!” I snapped, and controlled my raw temper with an effort. “But the Djinn are a deadly threat now, and they are not acting on their own. In a war there are casualties, and unless you want them all to be on the side of the humans…”
“She’s not talking about killing one or two, Cass, which is bad enough. She’s talking about slaughtering all of them. The Djinn exist for a reason. They’re the balancing force. Without them—”
“I know,” I said. “Believe me, I know. But we must find a way to make use of her—the Wardens won’t do otherwise. The best we can do is to try to minimize the damage that is done. Yes?”
He didn’t like it, and he gave me a tired, angry frown to show it. “Yes,” he finally said, but not as if he in any way agreed in the details. “I can’t believe it’s come to this, that all of a sudden we’re on the same side with her. God, Cass—”
I put my hand on his cheek. It felt rough and gritty; he’d been without bathing or shaving, and the dark stubble on his face grated my fingertips. Oddly, I found it soothing. “She’s in flesh,” I whispered. “In flesh, Luis. Always before, she’s stayed on the aetheric, made herself impossible to wound in any real way. But now…”
“Now she’s vulnerable,” he finished. Light sparked in his eyes, and he kissed the palm of my hand. “Why didn’t I see that?”
“You’re tired. We’re all tired. She had to take flesh at some point to channel the power given her by her acolytes, but she waited until she was certain it was necessary, and we were vulnerable ourselves.”
“She could shed that form, though. Anytime.”
“Not easily,” I said. “Not quickly. And if we can seal her inside it, cut her off from the sources of her power, then she’ll die along with the shell.”
“You mean cut her off from the children.”
I didn’t answer, because that was not what I meant at all. The children were her well-trained minions, yes, but that wasn’t where Pearl’s power was truly founded.… Like me, she had no direct connection to the aetheric, and therefore to stay alive had to draw power through others. I was joined to a Warden, whose connection was broad and deep, and not only sustained me but gave me access to considerable power.
Pearl was different in ways that I couldn’t, still, comprehend, but her power was aggregated not from one person, but from millions. Not Wardens, but regular, unmagical humans, whose life force connected only weakly to the aetheric… but the connection existed, and could be exploited. Had Pearl tried to source herself through one of them, she’d have killed him instantly; spreading that access across a million lives or more gave her a constant, vast draw of energy. Renewable energy. She could tap anyone she liked, anytime she liked.
No wonder Ashan had seen that the only solution was the death of the human race; nothing else could possibly destroy her.
And she had to be destroyed before she gained enough power, and killed enough Djinn, to attack the Mother at her most vulnerable.
“So what’s the plan?” Luis asked me. He looked past me to the corner where Pearl sat. I followed his gaze. My sister smiled at us and inclined her head. No doubt she knew we’d be scheming; she’d be a fool to assume otherwise. She also knew, no doubt, that we had few choices ahead of us, and none of them were good.
“Trust me,” I said, and walked across the room toward Pearl. Luis, after a few seconds, pushed away from the wall to follow. So did Isabel, although Esmeralda merely stirred uneasily, then settled back to stay where she was, arms folded.
Pearl’s children watched me with blank intensity as I approached. I could sense the vibration of power around them. Earth, Fire, Weather… and the boy sitting closest to Pearl, the one whose power was a negative energy that was the most like what I sensed in Pearl. He was a Void, the power of unmaking and consuming other energy. Of all of them, I calculated him the most dangerous, only because there were few effective counters for him in a fight.
“Sister,” Pearl said. “Come to join us?”
I sat down on the floor only a few feet from her children, comfortable and cross-legged. Luis hesitated, then joined me, although he didn’t look nearly as at ease at it as I did. But he hadn’t had all the thousands of years of deception to practice. “Of course,” I said. “Your logic is flawless. For humans to survive this conflict, they need a champion, one of power. You are the only one disposed to help them. What do you propose?”
“First, we gather all the Wardens together,” she said. “You know of the ones trapped in the mine?”
“I’ve been told.”
“I’ll send one of my children to help you. She’ll be the most useful—her name is Edie; she’s the strongest Weather power I’ve ever seen.” Pearl reached out to place her hand on the shoulder of the tall blond girl, who straightened with pride. “She can help you sweeten the air while you work toward them.”
“There may be Djinn,” I said. Pearl nodded.
“And I will also send Alvin,” she said, and now the Void boy stirred, turning his gaze toward her. “Alvin will deal with any Djinn very effectively.”
“But you said I’d stay with you!” he said, and reached out to put his fingertips on her knee. “Lady, I want to stay with you.…”
“You’ll go where you’re needed, Alvin. And I believe that you’re needed to protect my sister.” Her smile was faint, but malevolent for all that. “I’m among friends here. Or at least, I’m among those without the power to harm me in any significant way. I’m sure that your brother and sister can keep me safe until you return.”
She was keeping Earth and Fire with her—two powers that could be used destructively in the confines of this building, should it come to a pitched battle. I wasn’t surprised that she’d thought strategically, but she might have made an error with the boy; Alvin seemed mutinous about being sent away, as if this was a personal slight to be dismissed from her presence. The girl, by contrast, seemed proud to
have a special mission from the hands of the Lady.
The boy would bear closer watching.
“When do you wish to leave?” Pearl asked me.
“Now,” I said. “If that’s convenient.”
“Of course.” She reached out and took the hand of the boy, and then that of the Weather girl. “Children, my sister will look after your safety. One thing I know about Cassiel, she does take her responsibilities seriously. She won’t allow any harm to come to you.”
The two looked at me with identical cool expressions of mistrust; Pearl had done an excellent job of poisoning them against anyone else. This wouldn’t be an easy partnership.
“I’ll take care of them,” I agreed. In my heart, I was thinking that I would take far better care of them than she ever had, but it didn’t bear speaking aloud. The children had been twisted to her point of view; they’d never understand how much she’d taken advantage of them. I’d seen the ones she’d used and abandoned, the damage and wreckage she’d left written in small bodies. They hadn’t, and couldn’t, understand. “It’ll take an hour to reach the mine. I’m not certain how long it’ll take to reach the Wardens. It depends on how deep they are, and whether the Djinn have left any surprises for us.”
“I’m sure they have,” Pearl said. “I would.”
I nodded and rose. The girl came to me immediately, held out her hand, and said, “I’m Edie.”
“Edie,” I said, and shook hands. “Cassiel. This is Luis, my partner.”
She nodded, every bit as professional as any Warden I had ever met. The boy rose, too, but he didn’t bother to introduce himself. Edie nudged him, frowning. “And this is Alvin,” she said. “He’s kind of an ass. Don’t mind him.”
Alvin sent her a dark, scorching look. Edie topped him by at least six inches, but it wasn’t that they were dissimilar in age; both seemed to be about nine years old, perhaps close to ten. Edie was developing faster, though Alvin had a stocky weight to him. They didn’t seem to particularly care for each other. It was their mutual devotion to Pearl that had forged them together.
