Memory of Fire

by Holly Lisle

  "Bastard," Lauren said again. She touched Eric's hand. It was cool and lifeless. She closed her eyes. The tears she'd been trying to block escaped anyway. "He deserved better than this."

  "The odds aren't good for him," the nurse agreed, trying to be tactful. "I mean, miracles happen. You can always hope for a miracle. God knows, I've seen a few people that I would have thought—"

  "I'd like to be alone with him for a few minutes," Lauren said, interrupting the nurse's pep talk. She looked at the nurse, not bothering to wipe at the tears that streaked down both of her cheeks. "Just a few minutes of privacy for Jake and me…well, and Pete. Eric wouldn't be alive at all if it weren't for Pete."

  "I can give you a few minutes," the nurse said. She nibbled the corner of her lip and glanced over her shoulder, out the huge glass wall to the nurses' station where other nurses sat, watching monitors, filling out charts, and talking to other hospital personnel who moved hurriedly through the wide, brightly lit unit. "It won't be long because we have to do meds and things, but…"

  Lauren nodded. "Thank you. Anything we can have."

  The nurse pulled a hideous green-and-blue curtain across the window and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her.

  Lauren immediately handed Jake to Pete and said, "This is going to get weird, Pete. Just don't freak on me."

  "I'll be fine. Just…save him."

  "Yeah. Pray, okay?"

  Pete said, "I've been doing nothing but since this happened."

  "Me, too." Lauren walked to the full-length mirror on the bathroom door. It was narrow, but she thought Eric would fit through it sideways. The thing that really concerned her was how long she would have from the time she pulled out his IVs and disconnected him from the ventilator until he died on her. In what she guessed was going to be a narrow window, she had to get him, Jake, Pete, and herself from the ICU into Oria and do whatever magic she could to erase the damage the bullets had done to him.

  He wasn't dead yet. That was her only comfort. Brian's otherworld twin had said that she couldn't call anyone back from the dead. But as long as Eric wasn't dead, she was willing to bet that what she could do for him in Oria was going to be better than what doctors and medical technology were going to be able to do for him on Earth.

  Time was what had her spooked. It was always the enemy, wasn't it? She rested her palms flat on the mirror, staring into it, willing herself to see the snow-covered glade that surrounded her parents' house in Oria. She was feeling for that connection, the familiar shape, for a spark that would connect her to the place she knew best there. She breathed deeply, and in a moment, saw the first flash of green lightning, and felt the shivering thrill of power down her spine that was her connection to the wild storm that linked the worlds.

  She pulled the storm closer to her, welcoming the thunder, the lightning, the slashing rain, and in the heart of the storm, she began to make out the outlines of the old house, shrouded in the darkness of night, the ancient trees grasping at it with branches weighted and limned in a tracery of white, the small clearing now drifted high with more snow. Moonlight gleamed through patched clouds. She pulled the image closer yet, and was staring into the kitchen, where everything still lay in awful disarray.

  Behind her, she heard Pete making funny little squeaking noises. She didn't let them distract her. She fixed the image, forced a road to open between the ICU and the little house lost in snow and darkness, and, with the energy of worlds humming in her veins, turned to Pete.

  "Got it," she said. "You're stronger than me. You're going to have to do the next part."

  He nodded. Handed Jake to her. Grabbed one of Eric's thick-soled work shoes that were stacked on the windowsill with his few other personal effects, slid the leg of one of the room's sturdy visitor chairs into the shoe, and shoved the wooden back of the chair under the door handle. With the shoe wedged in place to keep the chair from sliding, he gave the makeshift jamb a couple of quiet kicks and said, "That'll hold for a few minutes. If this doesn't work, we're going to go to jail for attempted murder. You know that, right?"

  "I know."

  Pete nodded. Hurried to the bedside. Grabbed one of a couple of rolls of white cloth tape left lying on the ventilator and two gauze pads, and with a neat efficiency that surprised Lauren, tore strips of tape, put pressure over one IV with his thumb and a gauze pad, yanked out the IV, and taped the gauze down. "Keep them from bleeding," he said in explanation. "I figure he doesn't need to lose any more blood than he's lost already."

  Lauren nodded. "Where'd you learn to do that?"

  "I got some medic experience…overseas. I still have a few skills." He pulled out the other IV in the same fashion. "Long as we let the pumps keep dripping this stuff into the bed, the alarms won't go off. Nothing going to keep the damned ventilator quiet, though." Then he smiled. "Stupid me. Forget I said that." He glanced over at her. "We're going to shove him through the mirror. You're sure."

  Lauren slid her hand up to the elbow straight into the green-glowing mirror in reply. On the other side, she felt Brian's fingers tighten around hers—a single quick squeeze that told her he was there for her. She blinked away tears and tried not to think of Eric joining Brian in that lost place between the worlds. "I'm sure," she said.

  Pete nodded, and she saw him swallow hard. "Yeah. Okay. Well, this is going to have to be real quick. If he's not breathing on his own, we're talking four minutes from off-the-ventilator to dead, and probably with brain damage setting in before that."

  Lauren swallowed hard. Four minutes. That was a worse window than she'd imagined. But it was what she had. She nodded.

  Pete walked around to the side of the bed closest to the mirror, then reached across the bed and hit a switch. The ventilator fell silent in mid-gasp, its lights suddenly dark, its bellows still. Pete grabbed the blue accordion tube that connected Eric's white-plastic tube to the machine and disconnected it quickly. Then he blew once into the now-open end of Eric's tube and Eric's chest rose, then fell. "Best I can do until we get there," Pete said. He lifted Eric up in a bear hug and dragged him the short distance from the bed to the bathroom door.

  "Push him in, don't let go of him, and hold your left hand out for me," Lauren said.

  "I remember." Pete looked weirdly pale and scared in the green light. Behind them, the heart monitor, now connected to nothing but dangling electrodes, started screaming. "Gotta be quick."

  He angled Eric's limp body sideways and shoved him into the green fire. Wide-eyed, he stepped into the mirror himself, having to turn completely sideways, and sucked in his chest to get through. His left hand stuck out of the glass. Behind them, Lauren heard people pounding on the door, kicking at it, shouting. She grabbed Pete's hand and, with Jake clinging tightly to her, stepped through herself. She felt the wondrous hum of energy suffuse her, and Brian's arms around her and Jake, and behind her she heard the door smash open, and heard, too, a final wail of disbelief and shock and fear. And then she was standing on her parents' floor in the ice-cold house in Oria, with Eric lying at her feet and Pete kneeling over him, breathing into the white tube and checking the pulse at his throat.

  Behind her, with the connection between the worlds broken, the gate closed.

  "Hurry," Pete said. "His heart isn't doing right."

  "Light," Lauren said. And there was light.

  Pete made a whimpering noise, then resolutely turned to Eric and breathed for him again.

  Lauren dropped to her knees and, with a squirming, kicking Jake locked tight to her chest beneath her left arm, splayed the fingers of her right hand over Eric's chest. "Be ready," she said. "If this works, he's going to wake up fast, and he may panic."

  Pete just nodded.

  "Heal," she said, and closed her eyes and visualized Eric whole again, alive and standing and talking, with no scars, no blood, no damage. She felt her arm lock up, felt the space between her palm and Eric's chest fill with an electric tingling, and for a moment she couldn't move.

&nb
sp; "Oh, my God," she heard Pete whisper.

  She dared to open her eyes.

  The green flames of magic blazed across Eric's body, which had gone rigid and now began to arch wildly—his head, heels, and the palms of his hands touched the floor, but his torso bent so hard she thought his spine might snap.

  "What's happening?"

  Lauren, her hand still locked to his chest, with fire flowing between them, couldn't make her mouth form words or her throat form sounds. She could barely breathe. She held her position, concentrating on willing Eric back to health and full life.

  And suddenly the fire went out and he collapsed on the floor and his arms shot to his eyes, clawing at the pads, and his knees came up and his feet kicked out. Lauren scrambled back. Pete, either braced against such an eventuality, or more prepared by his experience as a medic, moved in and ripped the end off a tiny tube that protruded from the side of the airway. When Eric coughed, the large tube slid out smoothly. And then Pete was pulling the tape off Eric's eyes, saying, "Man, I'm right here, hang on, don't kick and don't hit me; it's Pete, just hang on, just hang on and everything is going to be all right."

  Tears were pouring down Pete's cheeks.

  Eric, coughing desperately, clutching at his throat, sat up.

  "Where the hell are my clothes, and what is going on and what am I doing in this…this bare-assed thing?" he demanded.

  Pete, weeping, hugged him.

  "And what the hell is the matter with you," Eric shouted, pulling back. And then, looking around, "And where are we?…And, good Christ, why is it so cold in here?"

  "Warmth," Lauren said.

  Suddenly it was no longer cold.

  Eric's head snapped around, and his eyes met hers, and in a low and dangerous voice, he said, "What the hell have you done?"

  "She saved your life," Pete said quietly.

  Eric looked down at the blue hospital gown that covered him only to mid-thigh, and rested his hand on his stomach. Another hand crept around to his back, where even more heavy bandages covered him from just below his neck to just above his buttocks.

  Gingerly, he lifted the gown front. "Whoa!" He turned beet red, yanked the gown back down, and said, "Where'd my underwear go? And what are all the bandages for?"

  Lauren said, "What is the last thing you remember?"

  Eric grew still. "We were in the station. And then I got the call—Debora's body. No…it was Molly. And I went out to the old house. And all the Sentinels were there—tied up on the floor, and Tom Watson and Deever Duncan were shoving them into…" He glanced quickly at Pete. "Into Oria. And they talked about just killing the ones who were left, and I went charging…in."

  A long, horrified pause.

  "And I was careless. Thought I knew where everyone was. But I'd missed one—he came out of the kitchen behind me and shot me in the back…"

  "Who was it?" Pete asked.

  "Willie," Eric said. He shook his head like he couldn't believe his own words. "Willie Locklear. And then everything went black, and I woke up here."

  "You were going to die," Pete told him. "You were on a ventilator, your spinal cord was severed, your heart wasn't working right, and the ICU staff was trying to get hold of your next of kin because no one was expecting you to pull through."

  Eric looked at Lauren. "Where are we now?"

  "This is my parents' old place in Oria."

  "How much did you tell him?"

  "Not much. He already had his suspicions."

  Eric looked back at Pete, startled. "You did?"

  "You were very careful. But even that sort of care becomes a flag after a while. I never guessed you were into anything this weird. But I knew something was up."

  Eric nodded. "Clothes," he said, and a rumpled pile of clothes appeared in front of him.

  Lauren said, "I would have at least created clean clothes."

  "Didn't create these," Eric said. "I just moved the pile from beside my bed to here. It disturbs things a lot less that way." He said, "Would you mind turning around for a minute?"

  Lauren turned, and Jake kicked her and yelled, "Down! I…DOWN!"

  "Not yet." She shifted him over to her hip, though he fought her like a wolverine, and did a spell that cleaned up the mess inside the house, putting everything back in its proper place and restoring it to its undamaged state.

  "Don't do that!" Eric yelled. "Do you have any idea what that sort of power wastage can do back on Earth?"

  Lauren said, "No."

  "Shit. Don't do it. Let me change, and we'll figure out what we're going to do, and I'll see if I can show you why excess magic is such a bad idea."

  "I wish I could do that," Pete said wistfully.

  "You could," Eric said, "but please don't. The problems we're facing right now will just get worse—a whole lot worse, with the effects of a lot of amateur magic bouncing around. She's bad enough." Lauren knew he'd indicated her.

  "Never mind you'd still be dying—or maybe already dead—without me."

  "I didn't say I wasn't grateful."

  "You didn't say 'thank you,' either."

  Silence. "Thank you." She heard bandages ripping off, and an appreciative murmur from both Pete and Eric.

  "Not even a trace of a scar," Pete said. "Damn, that's going to be hard to explain."

  "I'm assuming my sudden disappearance from ICU is going to have caused a bit of a stir, too."

  Pete was chuckling. "I'm betting they're raising holy hell back there right now."

  "That's bad. The world's continued survival depends on people not suspecting there's a way to walk through mirrors or disappear out of intensive care units." Lauren heard him stand, and heard thumping as he got dressed.

  "All right," he said at last. "I'm done. Now we need to figure out what we do from here."

  As they walked to her parents' old table, she did one tiny little additional spell; she made sure each of them was healthy. That talk of flu in the ICU, and the sight of hospital hallways lined with beds filled with gasping, coughing people had made her nervous.

  Natta Cottage and Cat Creek

  Pete didn't settle for being brushed off. He wanted an explanation of Oria, and he wanted to know what the Sentinels were and what they did—and when he had that, he'd wanted a good long explanation of why exactly Eric hadn't recruited him. He was polite about it, but he pushed hard.

  Lauren, on the other hand, wanted to know why she wasn't supposed to use the magic she could do in Oria. As Eric told her about the properties of magic flow between the worlds, and how any act of magic carried out in Oria sent waves of energy that influenced events on Earth, she began to regain vague memories of her parents discussing that issue with her—but along with their explanations of the dangers, she started remembering them telling her that rebounding was not the terrible problem that everyone kept thinking it was. That intent was the biggest director of rebound. She could almost recall seeing that written as a rule somewhere in her parents' notebook.

  "So you're saying that the world as we know is going to end in about a month," Pete said. "But that you don't know exactly what is going to end it?"

  Eric leaned his elbows on the trestle table and nodded. "And now the rest of the Sentinels in Cat Creek are either traitors, or kidnapped and possibly dead, and my chances of finding the problem and fixing it without them are nil." He winced and muttered, "Shit. And Willie said he'd called for backup from some of the other Sentinels nexuses, but he was one of the traitors. And so was Deever. So there isn't going to be any backup coming unless we call again." He rested his head in his hands, and said, "Son of a bitch."

  Jake, playing on the floor with pens and a notepad from Lauren's purse, looked up. "Son of bits!" he said. "Son of bits! Son of bits! Son of BITS!"

  "Thank you, Jake. Very nice. That's enough now." Lauren managed a weak smile. "What about my parents' notebook?" she asked. "Did you have a chance to look through it? Was there anything in there that might help us?"

  "I don't know. They had
some truly strange stuff in there. And notations that I really didn't have a chance to decipher—I get the feeling that we're going to have to go through the whole notebook to get an idea of what exactly they were working on. It might have something in it that could help us, but do we have the time to go through it and look at everything, only to find out at the end that it doesn't?"

  "Can we take the chance that it does have an answer in it, and not research it?" Lauren asked.

  "Not really, I suppose. We have a few things we have to do fast—we have to find the traitors. We have to discover what they've done so that we can undo it. We have to rescue the missing Sentinels if they're still alive. Once we've gotten our people back, then we should go through your parents' notebook to see if anything in it could help us."