by Nora Roberts
Then Fred took his other hand, murmured close to his ear, “They brought you back into the world, too. Believe in them.”
__________
Hannah nearly slid out of Lana’s arms when they flashed to the altar. Though her vision grayed, she shook it clear.
Duncan might have cursed at seeing his other sister on the battlefield but he was too busy working with Fallon to heal Tonia’s most dangerous injuries.
“Stay back! I’ll draw her off,” he said to Fallon. “Help them with Tonia. Get her back to New Hope.”
“You can’t take it all on alone.”
“I’m not losing you or my sisters.” His gaze locked with hers, one last time. “Take care of them.”
When he ran, shouting Petra’s name, drawing the flame, she did curse.
“Men,” Tonia managed weakly. “What can you do? Hannah, you shouldn’t be here.”
“You needed me. There’s magickal tools in here, too,” she told Lana briskly as she took out a bottle and syringe. “Fully equipped.”
“No sedative.” Tonia waved it away. “I’ve still got work to do. Tail caught me, freaking dragon. I missed my shot. Laoch tried to catch me, but it was too fast. He’s burned. I don’t know how bad.”
Fallon rose. Fire streaked the sky. Lightning red as Tonia’s blood rained from it. And in the woods that heart beat with deep, dark joy.
“Get her out of here.”
“I’m not—”
“Clear of the woods,” Fallon continued. “Follow the path of light, and get her clear. We’re not losing you, Tonia. Hannah and my mother will make sure of it, but the three of you can’t be in here for this.”
“You need to hang on for another flash. It’s not going to be a picnic for either of you, but it’ll be fast.” Lana looked up at Fallon, her child, her love. She’d promised that child she would never lose faith in her again. She would keep that promise.
“I believe in you.”
Alone, with her mother’s words still on the air, Fallon turned to the altar. “So now you have what you’ve wanted. Me alone. No more distractions.”
She closed her eyes, let the dark crawl in.
She felt its spider legs walk along her skin, its sinuous fingers snake around her ankles. It brushed its lips over hers, breathed its cold breath over her eyes. And surrounding her, covering her, squeezing, gently, gently squeezing, it murmured in her ear.
They are not worthy of us. They are beneath us, these mortals, these weaklings, these pale magicks. Lie on my altar, child of the bright gods, and know the dark. Know the pleasure I offer only to you.
“There have been others before me.”
Only to prepare for you. Lie with me, chosen one, and drink my dark, so rich, so sweet. I will drink your light, so bold, so bright. With our merging, we will be The One.
“I am The One.”
The dark compressed, choking off her breath. Do you wish pain when I offer so much? I will only feed on it. Take the pleasure, feel the pain, give me your light or I will take it. Give me your light, and I will spare the mother.
She took an agonizing step toward the altar, laid a trembling hand on it, felt its iced surface, its alluring promise as the dark smothered her.
Through the curtain she heard Petra’s mad laugh, saw the red glow of the fire scorching the sky. In her mind she saw sickness, death, war, murder, the plague of black magicks. So much loss, so much brutality.
It has always been so, and so it will always be. Brother killing brother over a patch of grass or a whoring woman. Children starving while others grow fat on fists of candy. The world burning for greed and ambition. These are who would hunt you, burn you, destroy you for what you are to save themselves. For your power. Come to me, lie with me. They are but toys to be played with, broken, and cast aside. We are forever.
“Can you hear them?” She took another step, another as the excitement of what wrapped her so close hummed over her skin, beat like moth wings. “Can you?”
Their screams? Their lamentations?
She felt the blood on her hands. Tonia’s, Duncan’s, her own. “Their song of faith.” She pulled her sword, cleaved through the dark. “You won’t drink my light. You’ll burn in it.” And, clasping the hilt in her bloodied hand, drove the sword into the pentagram and through the stone slab.
It writhed. It snapped and clawed. Screaming, she forced power through the blade, into the stone, into the heart.
“I am Fallon Swift. Child of the Tuatha de Danann. Daughter of Max Fallon, of Lana Bingham, of Simon Swift. I am The One. I am your end.”
The slab cracked, spewed out blood and stink. The force of it threw her back, stole her breath as she slammed into the ground. The beat slowed; the pulse grew weak. Lungs laboring, she pushed to her feet. And her moment of triumph was stillborn as dark seeped from the shattered stone, rose thin, but rose, into the murky sky.
“No.” She heaved light at the remains of the altar, turned it to dust, spread fire over the dust. Then praying, flashed.
Wounded or not, Laoch flew, with Duncan on his back. Near the circle, Hannah and Lana continued to treat Tonia. She raced to them, shield lifted to guard.
“It’s wounded, it’s weak, but I didn’t finish it. How’s Tonia?”
“Wounded and weak.” Hannah’s breath came fast, but she held tight to Tonia’s hand. “I’ve done all I can here. Your mother’s trying more. We need to get her to surgery.”
“Not until we finish.” Tonia spoke through gritted teeth. “Help Duncan.”
“I will. I—” And she saw that dark crawl over the sky, saw it wrap around Petra, slide and slither into her. “Take this.” She shoved her shield at Hannah. “Use it.”
She spread her wings, shot up.
“It’s in her! What’s left of the source is in her now.”
“Hey, cuz!” Eyes black pools with what lived in her now, Petra swung toward Fallon. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Fallon dived under the whip of the dragon’s spiked tail, swooped beneath the armored belly. Before she could try to strike the eye, it spumed out fire.
“I am filled!” Petra flung out her hands, spewed out lightning from her fingertips. “Like fireworks! Like my favorite holiday. The Fourth of July, when my daddy killed yours.”
With a flick of her hand, she batted away a stream of fire from Duncan’s sword, followed it with a wind that nearly unseated him.
Petra’s hair flew—black-and-white—then coiled like snakes to lash at the air. “You can’t touch us with your puny powers now. I have the heart in me. All promised is mine.” Lifting her arms, she called the crows to circle and swipe with smoking wings. “How about some of this!”
She threw out fire that speared into arrows and rained on the shield Hannah fought to hold.
“You have to help them.” Tonia nudged Lana’s hands away. “You have to help them. She—it—they’re getting stronger.”
“Keep that shield up, Hannah.”
Lana ran out from under its protection, pushed power up. Flamed it out.
Me, she thought, frantic. Come for me. You won’t have my child, you won’t have Katie’s. Come for me!
Petra flung bolts, fire, wind in all directions, her face bright with glee as the dragon’s tail slashed. Whipped around as Lana’s power rocked the air.
“Look who’s here.” With great good cheer, she shot bolts of lightning at Lana’s feet. “Dance, dance, dance. You killed my mummy, bitch. Now you can watch me kill yours. Fire in the hole!” she shouted, and laughed as the dragon breathed it.
Fallon flashed down, called the whirlwind to send the flame over the already burning field.
“You can’t spoil my fun. And you can’t save both of them. Which one will it be? Eenie, meenie.”
She shot a flurry of bolts at Duncan.
“Miney, moe.” Another flurry at Lana.
“God, she’s an asshole.” Breathing through her teeth, Tonia fought to sit up. “You’ve got to help me, Hannah.”<
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“You need to lie still.”
“Hannah, that bitch has the heart of freaking darkness inside her and a dragon under her. You have to help me. Get an arrow out of my quiver.”
The sky’s on fire, Hannah thought as the ferocious heat washed over her. “Tonia. You don’t have the strength, physically or magickally, to draw the bow.”
“No, but I can aim.” By the gods, she could still aim. “You’re going to have to do the rest. Come on, Team Sister time. Nock it.”
Even breathing hurt but Tonia sucked air into her lungs, pushed it out. “She’s distracted, we’re nothing right now. You have to keep me steady, brace me up.”
“I can’t do that and hold the shield.”
“Put it down. It’s all or nothing now. Nock the arrow, hold me steady.” The world wanted to spin—she wouldn’t let it. “You draw the bow, but don’t release until I say. We’ve got one shot.”
Because if we miss, Tonia thought, a pissed-off dragon’s going to burn us to ash.
“One shot,” she echoed, and blinked her eyes clear.
Seeing the fallacy of trying to draw fire away from the women, Duncan sent Laoch into a dive. He leaped off to stand with them.
“Together,” he said. “Just let it rip.”
“Wait.” Fallon gripped his arm. She saw Tonia lift the bow, Hannah draw it. “Wait.” She stepped to the side. She could angle it for Tonia. Just a little. “Hey, cousin. How about a little one-on-one, just you and me?”
Fallon spread her wings again, floated up. And yes, Petra turned the dragon while she smiled, stroked its neck.
“We’ll get there. We’re saving you for last. You’ll watch the others burn before I send you into the dark. I’ll rule then. Me! As it was always meant. The dark will feast and feast and—”
Tonia homed in. “Keep talking, bitch. Now, Hannah!”
The bowstring sang, and the arrow winged through the air. The keen head struck true, pierced the left eye. And the shaft dug deep.
The toothed tail slashed madly, and the sinuous body bucked, bucked. It shook its powerful head, fighting to dislodge the arrow. As it fell, the dragon’s dying roar shuddered through the air, swept over the burning grasses in the field, flattening them. On an answering cry, Fallon cleaved its head.
“Burn it!” she shouted at Duncan, but he’d already fired the flame.
Lana whooshed out wind to send the burning head of the dragon, the smoldering body of the man, into the pit.
“He was mine!” Petra barely got her wings out before she hit the ground. She landed badly on ground sparking with embers, screamed at the pain. “He was mine! We’ll kill you. Kill you all.”
“You’re done.” Duncan sheathed his sword, led with power only, pushed out with light when Petra flung out dark.
“Let him do this,” Fallon murmured. “He needs it. Open,” she said when Duncan drove Petra and what was in her back toward the stones. “Lock the dark.” And she, too, sheathed her sword.
Petra’s next flame dissolved when it hit the barrier.
“The circle holds. The light holds.”
Face contorted, Petra charged at Duncan, beat fists bloody on the barrier. “You will not send me back!” The voice that roared out of her, no longer her own, thundered.
Petra, trapped by what she’d taken in, flung herself against the circle, raced around it in a blur until the blood of the woman soaked the ground.
“Enough,” Fallon ordered. “It’s enough.”
“Get me up,” Tonia insisted as Duncan moved into the circle. “I’m not missing this.”
“You shouldn’t— Never mind.” Hannah got an arm around her. “Lean on me.”
“I always have.”
Her hair in tangled mats, Petra huddled on the ground, battered, bleeding. With eyes that had gone a sweet and innocent blue, she lifted her face to Duncan.
“It made me do terrible things. Look how it hurt me. Help me, Duncan. Rescue me.”
“Not this time.” He pushed, but more gently than he’d thought himself capable of, driving her back.
“Come with me.” Smiling through bloody teeth, Petra reached out, and the dark heart clawed with her.
Fallon stepped in. “Go to hell.”
Petra’s hands, her feet left grooves in the ground as she fought against the push. Her scrabbling fingers caught the edge of the pit. With one last smile she looked at Fallon, spoke with the voice of the beast.
“We’ll come back for you.”
As they fell— a scream from what had once been a woman, a roar from what she’d embraced—Duncan drew his sword, sent flames to destroy both. “No, you won’t.”
“Hold the line,” Fallon said to him, and walked over to Laoch, took what they needed out of the saddlebag. “Are you up for this?” she asked Tonia.
“You’re damn right. A little help? Legs are still wonky. Seems I broke both of them.”
“I’ve got you. We only left the circle open for the three of us,” she explained to her mother and Hannah. “We couldn’t take chances. We have to close it, seal it, purify it.”
“We’ll wait.” Lana slipped an arm around Hannah’s waist.
They waited and watched while the children of the Tuatha de Danann closed the ground inside the stone. With merged blood, they sealed the shield, purified it with light.
With the sword she’d taken from the fire, Fallon etched the fivefold symbol into the shield.
As she did, light exploded in the sky. It burst like noon, bathed the world, fell warm and soothing over her face.
“Here, the grass will grow again and wildflowers bloom,” she said as the light quieted, and night flowed back.
“The deer will come to graze, men may come to see. But the sign will remain, and the shield forged in blood and light will forever hold back the dark.”
“This land is clean,” Duncan said.
Tonia leaned against him. “This shield is true.”
“Open.” Fallon stepped out of the circle. “This place is open to all who walk or fly or crawl in the light. And forever barred, in and out, from any who seek the dark.”
“As night follows day,” they said together, hands again joined, “as day follows night, this world is guarded by the light.”
She turned to her mother. “It’s done. It’s finished.”
“I know.” Tears glimmering, Lana cupped Fallon’s face. “I know it.”
“I never saw you here. Mom, I never saw Hannah. We couldn’t have done it without you, both of you.”
“And what came out of New Hope with you,” Duncan added.
“Thought I heard singing.” Tonia swayed. “You hear singing?”
“Something like that. How about you and Hannah take Tonia back?”
“Yeah.” She sent Duncan a weak smile. “I can go with that now. Because . . . uh-oh.”
Duncan caught his twin when she passed out.
“She just fainted,” Hannah assured him as she checked Tonia’s pulse. “We’ll get her to the clinic. We’ll take care of her. Here.” With Hannah on one side, Lana on the other, they supported Tonia.
“It’s going to take another flash,” Lana warned her.
Supporting her sister, Hannah braced herself. “I can handle it.”
“I know you can.” She looked into Fallon’s eyes, laid a hand on her heart, and flashed.
Safe. They’d be safe now. Fallon ran her hands over her filthy face. “It was in the altar. I could feel it in the stone. It wanted me to lie on the slab so it could suck the life and light from me. So I destroyed the altar, but I didn’t kill it. Only weakened it. I—”
“It’s done now. It’s done.”
It didn’t seem quite real, not quite solid now that the tidal wave of power ebbed.
“I don’t know how to feel. Relieved? All my life’s been aimed at this moment, so what do I feel now that it’s finished?”
She looked at him. Real. Solid. And everything steadied again. “You’re a mess. Bruised, bleedi
ng, burned. I guess I am, too.”
“We’ll fix each other up.” He took her hand. Light still shimmered between them, and he focused on that as he spoke. “I wanted her dead, and wanted to do it. For Denzel, for Mick, too. For so much and so many. But when it came down to it, she was just crazy. Pathetic. Evil, but pathetic. Ending her . . .”
It wasn’t satisfaction, it wasn’t pleasure.
“Relief’s good,” he decided. “Relief works.”
“I’ll take it, and now we need to— Laoch! Oh Jesus, Laoch. I need to—” She ran to him, ran a hand over the flank the dragon had burned.
Instead of a wound, even a healing scar, he bore, like the shield, the fivefold symbol.
“Sometimes the gods are kind,” she murmured. She breathed out a sigh as Taibhse dropped down to perch on the golden saddle, and Faol Ban sat beside the alicorn to wait.
“We need to make sure I destroyed all of it in the woods, that there’s nothing left that can—”
“Fallon.” With a tenderness that surprised them both, Duncan pressed a kiss to her forehead, turned her around. “Look.”
The woods lived again. They stood thick, the pines green, the oaks ripe with color under the light of the swimming moon. A moon, she realized, and stars that shined through a sky as clear as glass.
Through the trees, and over the fields no longer scorched and burning, lights danced.
“The faeries came. They’re bringing it back. All of it back.”
“We’ll come back, too, bring Mom so she can see the house again. Open it up to the light again.”
“Someone will farm the land again.”
“Someone.”
She smiled at him. “Relief’s okay. Happy’s better. I think I just got to happy. And finished? That’s best of all. Let’s go home, Duncan.”
“Let’s go home.” He yanked her in, and they flashed to New Hope on a kiss.
EPILOGUE
On New Year’s Eve, in a year that ended and would begin in light, snow lay in white blankets over the sleeping gardens, draped over the branches of trees like lacy handkerchiefs. The wind blew cold and clear over families of snowpeople.
Inside the house where Fallon’s family had made a home in New Hope, friends gathered. Food for all and more covered tables, wine and whiskey poured generously into glasses. Music played jubilantly.