by April White
I held her hand as we left the room. Even if nothing else on this time stream was right, my mom was here, and she was worth all of it.
The Situation
Mr. Shaw and Connor had taken Archer into the laboratory where another table was cleared for him. He was hooked up to an IV of fluids, but he was still unconscious and horribly pale.
“He needs blood,” said Mr. Shaw when I entered.
“But the infection is cured, right?” I asked.
Connor was looking into a microscope and nodding. “Yeah, no active infection. He’s just an AB-positive Seer.” He stepped back to let Mr. Shaw confirm.
“Whoever took blood from him took too much. An infusion is the fastest way, but I have no idea how the mutation has changed his body,” said Mr. Shaw after he had looked into the microscope.
My eyes traveled over Archer’s pale-as-death face, then to Tom, who was breathing on his own, but still unconscious. “It all comes down to blood, doesn’t it?” I wasn’t really speaking to anyone but myself, and I turned on my heels and left the room.
Adam was still pacing the science classroom. “Ava’s gone off to find Ringo and the leprechaun showers and fresh clothes.”
“Would you give blood to Archer?”
Adam registered my words for exactly one second before he stepped forward and began rolling up his sleeve. “Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, Archer was still out cold but looked much better with a bag of Adam’s blood draining into him. Adam sat in a chair sipping orange juice and met my eyes after studying the two unconscious guys on the tables. “I guess blood type compatibility is really the only difference between us anyone should ever have to worry about, you know?”
He said what I’d been thinking, and Connor spoke from across the room. “It’s bad enough for regular people to figure out who can get whose blood. Add in our Family types and it just gets stupid.”
“What about me? Who can I give blood to?” Suddenly that mattered, because the last two hours had been all about blood.
Connor came and sat next to me, and I barely resisted hugging him. Despite the fact that he had just helped to save the lives of two people, he still had teenaged-boy sensibilities. So, I bumped his shoulder with mine, and he bumped mine back. It was boy for everything from ‘hi’ to ‘thank you for being awesome.’
“I started testing the mixed-bloods Adam brought in, and I’d like to start mixing for compatibility with each Family. You’re right that it really only comes down to who’s blood can save whom, and given the mixed-blood immunity to the Monger ring’s power, I’d say they have some extra benefits.”
Adam scoffed. “Kind of shoots down that whole ‘mixed is bad’ b.s., doesn’t it?” He was looking at his cousin when he said it.
“Tom and I went through a pretty rough patch for a while, but I’m a huge fan,” I said. “He was stupidly brave and totally self-sacrificing, and he did it all to get back here to you. The biggest part of getting cured was your acceptance.”
Adam’s eyes filled, and he wiped them angrily. “That’s such complete bollocks. He’s always had my acceptance. Tom has been my best friend since we were kids, and for him to think I could ever believe otherwise …” His tone was harsh and he turned away.
I gave harsh right back to him. “He heard how you spoke about Archer. He heard what you said about Mongers when Seth split you and Alex up. And then to find out he is one and became the other? Of course he thought you would hate him.”
I knew he’d get it, and he did. He turned back and looked stricken. “I didn’t know. I only knew what everyone said.”
“Right. That’s what happens.” I softened my tone. “We parrot the prejudices of our parents, and they continue until nobody even remembers why we hated those people in the first place. According to Descendant laws, I was supposed to have been killed when I was born,” I nodded at Tom, “and him too. How much would that suck?”
Adam took a deep breath. “So what do we do? How do we change things?”
I shrugged. “I just know that I can’t let the prejudices slide. No one gets a pass on hate or intolerance around me. From now on I say something, and I don’t care who I’m talking to.”
Connor chuckled. “I’d love to see you take on Mrs. Arman.”
Adam scoffed. “You won’t have to, because I will.”
I included them both in my smile. “You guys, I love you, but I stink and I need a bath.” I hopped off the table and Connor wrinkled his nose.
“I wasn’t going to say anything, but—”
For that he got a poke in the ribs before I headed to the door. “If either of them wakes up, will you kiss them for me and tell them I’ll be right back?”
They both wrinkled their noses at that, and I left the laboratory with the first lightness I’d felt in a long time.
After a shower and a hurried meal, I got waylaid by my mom and the Arman adults. They wanted all the details of everything that had happened while we were gone, but much to Mrs. Arman’s chagrin, I said no. I told them to call a general meeting of everyone currently at the school, and we would tell everyone at the same time. I was definitely done with the control of information that had been practiced by the Families for far too long.
When I finally made my way back to the laboratory, I found it empty, but tracked Mr. Shaw down in his office, where he was taking Archer’s blood pressure. Archer’s hair was wet, and he wore his own clothes, but not the ones he’d had on before. I was surprised at that, but was too busy grinning to follow up yet.
“Hi, handsome,” I said as I slipped into the room. “How can you possibly have been up?”
His answering smile made my heart do giant happy dances in my chest. “Hello, beautiful,” he said, then tossed his head at Mr. Shaw. “Ask him.”
Mr. Shaw ripped the Velcro open and wrapped up the BP cuff as he peered into Archer’s face. “You’re a hundred and fifty-odd years old, but all your readings are of a very fit, ridiculously healthy man in his early twenties. Notwithstanding the various stab and gunshot wounds, you barely look worn in.”
“But the infection is completely gone?” Archer asked as he unrolled his sleeve.
“There seems to be an odd genetic residue which puts you a little closer to the mixed-bloods than to the pure Seers, and I found the same component in Tom’s blood, despite his mix. The infections in your bodies had done most of the work on the gunshot wounds before the cures were injected, and based on your condition, I’d say you both still have much better than average healing times. Perhaps it’s something to do with telomere programming …” he mused, and then shook himself back to the conversation. “I suppose you both need time to make your own blood before I start drawing it though.” Mr. Shaw smirked at himself as he stood and looked at me.
“No running for a bit. It’ll take a few days of good food and rest before he’s re-made the blood he lost. The green-haired boy did a good job with both you and Connor.”
Archer added for my benefit, “Tam took care of our wounds when we were trapped in the tunnel.” Then he turned to Mr. Shaw. “Are you finished with me?”
“For now,” Shaw grumbled. There was a hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth, and impulsively, I went over and kissed his cheek.
“Thank you, Mr. Shaw. You’re pretty good at this whole life-saving business, you know?”
He narrowed his eyes. “Yeah, well, I’m not too happy about how often I have to do it around you, young lady.”
All traces of humor fled as I answered. “Neither am I.”
He cleared his throat and then ducked his head to put away his medical kit. “All the wings of the school are full. We had to give away your room, Saira, but no one else knows where yours is.” He looked at Archer, who nodded.
“Thank you.”
“We’re married,” I blurted for no apparent reason except that I didn’t want Mr. Shaw to think … actually, it didn’t matter what he thought. I threaded my fingers through Archer’s, and he
turned my hand over to trace his signet ring on it.
Whatever Mr. Shaw might have said in that moment was lost. All I could see or hear was the smile on Archer’s lips when he said, “I know.”
He didn’t let go of my hand as we left the office and headed toward the main hall. “Where are we going?” I asked.
“I’ve never shown you the interior staircase to the cellars, have I?” he said with a smile.
I was intrigued. “No, you haven’t.”
We turned down a small hallway which must have been used by servants when the school was first built. “No one remembers it. Even Ringo was surprised when I told him how to get me some clean clothes.”
“Where is Ringo?” I asked suspiciously.
“After he ran a couple of errands for me, he said he was going to find Connor to go running through the school. He had some anxiety to burn off after the past several weeks.”
I scoffed. “My version of anxiety-relief looks like curling up with you and sleeping for about three days.”
He squeezed my hand with a quick grin, then led me through a well-concealed doorway under the back staircase and down to the cellar below. The hidden catch slid the shelving unit on the false wall to one side, and we found Archer’s hideaway set up for a picnic dinner.
“Ah, Ringo outdid himself,” said Archer happily.
The small table had a cloth on it, and there were plates, cups, and silverware for two. Archer lit candles around the room while I unpacked a basket that had been left beside the table.
There was fresh, crusty French bread, still warm from the oven and wrapped in a clean cloth. Fresh, salty butter and hard cheese were in a chilled container, and sliced roasted chicken and the last of the garden tomatoes rounded out the sandwich options. For dessert there were grapes and tiny chocolates wrapped in paper, and bottles of water and wine completed the feasting options.
“Wow, Mrs. Taylor is amazing,” I marveled.
“She is, but actually, I think Ringo charmed Annie into helping him put the basket together.” Archer smiled. “I told him the only things I’d eaten in a hundred years were a handful of nuts and some granola bars.”
I looked at him, aghast, and his expression shifted to concern. “What’s wrong?” he asked as he came to me.
I took his face in both of my hands and I kissed him. “You’re here and you’re alive. If I live a thousand years I will never take either of those things for granted.”
He kissed me back. “Good. Don’t.” He took my hands from his face and kissed the backs of each of them. “Mrs. Devereux, would you join me for my first proper meal in more than a century?”
I smiled, happier than I could remember being in a long time. “Mr. Devereux, it would be my pleasure.”
We sat, and ate, and talked, and laughed, and cried for what felt like hours, always touching, always holding hands. He told me that the memory of our wedding in the church garden was the one he had kept returning to every time the pain set in, and it was the thing that had allowed him to endure the endless darkness of the cell where Walters had kept them. I thanked him for the gems he had collected, and I recounted the true history of Artemisia’s emerald.
The time I’d spent with Mary Shelley fascinated Archer, and the events of the other time stream intrigued him. War was a bastard, he said, but my encounters with Death made him thoughtful. The fact that we’d run into both Bishop Wilder and Bas sent him pacing around the room with questions about every detail of their words and their actions, and the revelations about Doran dropped him back in his seat in astonishment.
His own revelations about Walters’ plans for Raven and the things he’d guessed about Walters’ desire for Archer’s blood were especially concerning, and we agreed that getting the ring away from Seth Walters was the highest priority. The rest of the political nightmare that the Immortal Descendants faced could be dealt with after the power to compel was out of the equation.
We had long since moved to Archer’s bed and lay curled up together on top of the blankets. The cocoon he made for me with his body wrapped around mine felt like the warmest, safest place in the world. He played with the ring on my finger as we talked, and I made him take his shirt off so I could first examine and then trace every scar, every wound, every bruise and scratch on his torso. And when I’d kissed them all, we made love.
The hours we spent together felt more intimate than any we’d spent besides our wedding night. We exposed our most hidden fears and revealed our secret hopes to each other, and I’d never felt so peaceful as I did then.
We slept for a while, then talked some more.
“I hope you’ll move in here with me, at least while we’re at St. Brigid’s.” Archer’s voice was more tentative than I liked, so I teased him in return, telling him I would move in with him, but only if he hung a disco ball from the ceiling for impromptu dance parties.
“Done,” he said, and at the look in his eyes I thought I might regret that particular tease.
I knew I’d put off the inevitable facing of the music that waited for us upstairs, and after kissing a couple of dozen times, we packed up the food dishes and took them back to the kitchen. We used the inside steps again to avoid Monger eyes, because despite the walled garden, we weren’t invulnerable from above if someone were high enough in the trees.
Mrs. Taylor and Annie fussed over me in the kitchen, and Archer and I fussed over the delicious food they’d packed, and after a giant fuss-fest, we finally made our way to the library to find Miss Simpson.
It was full dark outside, but Miss Simpson’s office light was on when I knocked on the door.
“Come in, Saira,” she said from behind her closed door.
I opened it slowly and we entered the small office. Miss Simpson looked exactly the same as she had always looked, but I couldn’t see her without seeing the glorious Renaissance version of Aislin that Doran had painted.
“Hello, Aislin,” I said quietly. I dipped my head slightly as a gesture of courtesy. It was one I’d learned in Elizabeth’s court, and it seemed to soften the hard edges around her mouth.
She studied both of us for a long moment, then finally sighed and gestured to chairs for us to sit. “Can I get you tea?” she asked.
I smiled. She didn’t really want to be having this conversation, and yet her English politeness had been worn so long it was like a second skin. “No, thank you. We won’t take up a lot of your time.”
She answered with her own smile. “Time is something of which I’ve perhaps had far too much.”
She broke the ice, so I dove right in. “Do you remember the other time stream?”
Aislin sighed again. “As a distant memory, as though it happened long ago to someone else, as though I heard it in a story once.”
I sat forward. “On that time stream there were some good things, but there were some things that didn’t work, too. I’d like to have learned my lesson about those without having to actually try them out.”
Aislin gave me the first non-wary smile since we walked in. “A very wise perspective from one who is not of my direct Family.”
“I’m not going to ask you what you See about what’s coming up, because you won’t tell me anyway and I don’t love rejection,” I said, only half-joking.
Aislin’s eyes sparkled, and I caught a glimpse of a striking, ethereal, young blonde woman – her natural form.
I forged ahead. “I know the ring Seth Walters is wearing to compel the masses doesn’t actually belong to the Monger Family.” That got an eyebrow raise, which made me oddly proud. It was no mean feat to surprise Fate. “But I’ve seen what happens when there’s a power vacuum for Mongers, and that’s not great either.”
Archer watched me with as much interest as Aislin did – I hadn’t really thought this part through and was making it up as I went. “So, we need to get the ring out of Monger possession, but we can’t just leave them without their artifact. They are like troublemaker kids when they’re bored and have nothing to play
with – they stir stuff up just to see it explode.”
Aislin’s mouth twitched, but she managed to keep a straight face, so I continued shooting rapid-fire questions at her in hopes she might actually answer one or two. “Duncan said their artifact went missing, and I was wondering if you had any information about it that you’d be willing to share – like what, exactly, is it? What can it do? When and where did it go missing? Where it might be now? Anything you know could be helpful in getting the right artifact back to the right Descendant Family.”
“Why is this your task, Saira?” Aislin finally asked.
“Why isn’t it?”
I surprised her again. I might actually have to start keeping score. She opened her mouth, then closed it, then finally opened it again. “But you’re just a girl,” she said.
She should have kept it closed. Nothing, not one thing in the world actually pissed me off more than those three words – just a girl. Ringo knew this for sure, and yet not even he ever baited me with them – not ever. I could sense Archer’s gaze sharpening, and I knew he got it too.
I smiled at her. She should have been afraid of that smile, but she didn’t know me well enough. “You know, Duncan once said something similar to me, and I figured his words came straight from his sexist little heart. But now you too? I actually expected more from you, Aislin, because that word ‘just,’ when used as an adverb, means ‘only’ and ‘no more than.’ By using ‘just’ that way, you’re saying there’s something greater than being female, and you’ve implied that being female isn’t enough.”
Aislin’s eyes narrowed at me, but I would win the eye-narrowing stare-off because I was mad, and I was right, and she knew it. So I raised an eyebrow in an imitation of my favorite of Archer’s expressions. I’d been practicing it in a mirror, and I knew it made me look disdainful. “And because there’s nothing greater than female – male is equal to but not greater than – and being female is clearly quite enough, I figure you must have used ‘just’ as a synonym for ‘exactly, precisely, absolutely, perfectly,’ – as in ‘just what we need.’ In which case, I have no argument with you.” I leveled her with the nicest, most polite smile I had in my repertoire. “Do I?”
