by Anise Rae
Laughter.
He smiled back and paced. “Only three other territories in the Republic have enchantresses. They had to offer those ladies a lot of privileges and riches to get them to stay. But our Aurora is here because of love.”
“Ahh.” The sound resounded through the theater.
He shook his head, denying their sentiment. “I wish I could say it was because she loved me…”
The admission struck with a sharp jab, but the soft touch of her vibes staunched the pain. She’d reached out, a quick caress of energy, timid and fleeting. He had to take a breath before he could continue.
“But really it’s because of the friends she’s made into her family. Light and dark, young and old. They run the gamut. I’ve met a few of them. As I first got to know her, her love and respect for the entire spectrum of mage power from the darkest of the dark to the brightest light baffled me. How could she, the lightest…the fairest of them all, love and admire the dark?
“Isn’t best to ignore them? To hide them? Just as we yank up the vibe violets that grow in our yards when we have a dark mage living in our houses. We love mage power, but only a certain kind of power.”
He paced to the edge of the stage. “Our ancestors founded this country as a place where magekind could practice our crafts and use our energy to their full potential. Instead we brought our own prejudices with us. This isn’t a new story. It’s been playing out for four hundred years. But it’s time to change it. The brave people among us, like Aurora, have started, standing up for the dark and the wrongly rejected. She makes me want to be brave, too.”
He took a breath. “Common knowledge states that metallist mages are the darkest of the dark, but they’re not. I am.” He waited out the gasps. “My true mage power is so dark that I can’t use it without Aurora to counterbalance it. I’m lucky though. I can steer clear of my true power’s potential and use vibes for other spells. Many dark mages can’t. And so they refuse to use their gifts or others refuse to let them.”
He paced over to the other side. Damn it, she was over here somewhere. He walked backward, deeper onto the outdoor stage. He looked down. A cheap, small sports car sat on the access road, just beside the platform. The convertible roof was down despite the cold temperatures.
Aurora leaned back against the driver’s seat, eyes closed, red hair sprayed wide against the back of the leather seat. At his long pause, she opened her eyes. Their green stared back at him. He hadn’t seen them in seven days. She was still pale, her lips not yet their true color.
He turned back to his restless audience, but stayed on her side of the stage, nearer the edge than was appropriate for a performance, but he didn’t want to leave her. She might disappear.
“The time for fear is over. It’s time to be brave. Every one of us. Whatever power you have, you have a duty to accept and harness your unique gifts for the betterment of the Republic, this territory, your homes, and for yourself.”
A quiet round of applause built into a roar. The audience came to their feet, stomping and cheering so loudly the amphitheater vibrated. A force slammed into his chest with such fury it changed him into nothing but a burning mass of pain. From somewhere in the distance, joy turned to terror, screams replaced cheers.
Edmund looked down at her.
He closed his eyes.
And fell.
* * * *
Aurora listened to Edmund’s voice. She could imagine his expression from his friendly open tone. His public persona was firmly in place, but that didn’t stop her from sinking into his words.
“I wish I could say it was because she loved me,” he said from his high perch.
She felt the pain in those words and reached out on automatic, touching his vibes with hers, and pulling back just as quickly. She loved him. But she couldn’t have him. Dropping her head back against the seat, she listened to his speech with closed eyes, trying to blot out the sadness. Instead, she willed his low voice to wrap around her like a blanket, comforting and tender. After a week of her sickened vibes stabbing at her with every breath, she craved his touch.
Her mage energy had recovered for the most part. She didn’t think her heart ever would. Taking her snow-buried car out to spy on him had been a wild hare in her brain, but after being sick for so long—or maybe it was effects of the heartache—only wild hares were left in her mind.
Bull had helped her clean off her patchwork car that was ugly on the outside, but its engine was a beauty. He’d even gone so far as to stuff her head in her hat.
“Why are you helping?” she’d asked as he opened her car door.
“Because I’ve spent seven days watching him watch you. When he’s not shoveling or talking to people, or setting dormant protection spells, he stands in front of the burn barrel and gazes at your tower like a sad, sick puppy. He’s crazy in love with you. Now go.”
“Bull, he can’t stay.” Her mouth wobbled with the words, fighting against saying them. She lifted her hands to her ears without thought, as if some part of her couldn’t stand to hear them.
His fighting mask descended—blank and dark. “He has to stay. You’re gonna be late. Get going before you miss the whole show.” He put his meaty hand on her head and gave her a push inside the car.
Just as she didn’t have the strength to argue with Bull, she didn’t have the strength to brave the crowd. She sat with the car’s top down in the place her father used to take her to hear the symphony. No one had closed off the back road.
She opened her eyes. He stood at the edge, staring down at her. Exhaustion creased his face. She wanted to brush her hands over his cheeks, to sprinkle his sadness with glittery vibes. But the chasm that separated them could not be bridged with love.
He turned back to his audience, though he didn’t move from the stage’s back edge. He stayed with her. “You have a duty to harness your unique gifts for the betterment of the Republic….”
Oh, she’d done that beyond his imagination. Despite all his brave words, he didn’t understand what he was saying. If he found out how she’d harnessed her gifts, he wouldn’t let her live, or Lily or Tera or Izzy. “Goddess, let him see the good in it,” she whispered the words aloud, picturing him with Lily. Just as quickly, she blew away the image.
A noise to her right drew her attention to a small stand of scraggly city trees. Shiny metal glimmered in the reflected light of the snow. She opened her sense to read the mage energy there and received nothing but a faint vibration.
It happened so fast...the shiver of dead branches, the lightning flash of silver shooting through the air, a heavy thump against the side of the car. Then Edmund’s stumble, the arrow protruding from his chest.
He fell.
She grabbed whatever spell she could summon in a blink to soften his landing against the car. White rose petals fell in a blizzard piling high. They puffed in a blinding cloud as his limp body made impact. The tiny backseat was no place for a man his size. He lay in a ball on his side, the arrow pointing between the two front seats. His life energy receded like ashes blowing in the wind. She reached for it, but her hands could not touch it.
“Edmund!”
The deep shout vibrated into her bones. She wrenched around to see the fury in the senator’s eyes as he leaned over the edge of the stage. Pushing a handful of vibes into the engine, she jerked the car into gear, spinning back as a flood of sentries catapulted off the stage.
She shot down the lane, racing away from the hell-bent sentries. Their vibes stretched out to her car’s engine, trying to shut it down. She countered their spells with her own vibes, speeding out of reach. She shifted her energy to twine with Edmund’s, lending him strength. His had faded to almost nothing, leaving her little to hold on to.
She reached for the energy of his heart. She knew all about the mechanics of pumps, but it was common sense that they wouldn’t work with an arrow shot through them, so she cast a spell to circulate Edmund’s blood. She became hi
s heart.
With one focus on Edmund’s blood flow, another bit on driving home, she yelled for Merida through the healer’s bracelet still around her wrist.
The heart. Get the heart. It’s on my Hopeless Shelf. Hurry. He needs it.
On the other end of the connection, Merida responded with a fast, controlled burst of energy, an experienced healer taking lead on the emergency.
I’m on my way, Merida stated. Who’s our patient?
Edmund. Get Bull. Tell him the sentries are after me. We need time to fix him.
I’ll meet you at your shop.
It was too close, too open, too vulnerable to the sentries who would take him away from her and let him die. She must have sent the message down the connection.
Do we have time to hide him? Merida asked.
The waning of his vibes had slowed but not stopped. He didn’t have much more to lose.
No.
She took the back streets and alleys that only a native Piper would know. More than once the car scraped against the buildings in the tight passages not meant for cars. Oh, and there went a garbage can.
Whittier beckoned. She took the turn with a flash of vibes. Bull was waiting in front of the shop as she squealed to a halt.
“Fucking vibes, Ror. What have you gotten into now?” He reached for Edmund laying in the tiny backseat, partially on the floor from her crazy driving. “Monday, you’re supposed to sit in the seat. Idiot. You eat a lot, man. Good thing. You’re going need a shit load of strength to get through this.” Bull talked to him the entire time, straining to get him unstuck from the tight space, and then cradling him like a baby as he brought him inside and back to the workbench. Aurora cleared it with a long reach of her arm, swiping everything to the floor in a crash.
“Merida’s on her way.” Bull laid Edmund down on the bench.
“Open his shirt,” she ordered, already at her Hopeless Shelf. Of all the places to put a heart...it needed hope and joy, not the used up vibes of cast-offs. Grabbing through the toaster illusion, she closed her hand around the illegal heart’s cloth wrapping. Goddess, she was about to doom him...to doom them all. Maybe he wouldn’t need it. Maybe Merida would be able to heal his real heart.
She turned back around as an explosion vibrated her shop. The sentries were attacking.
“It’s his barricade spells,” Bull explained at the alarm that must have crossed her face. “Just keep working, Ror. Every member of the gang knows how to activate the shields he planted. Monday made them all learn. The man’s got a fucking beast of power inside him. And they circle the entire forest. Hope everyone’s inside.”
“Go get Izzy.”
He shook his head, his expression grim. “There’s no time.”
Dozens of explosions roared through the junkyard. It was like the park bomb again and again.
Merida ran in, her lips tight, eyes hard.
The first cut in his skin appeared while the healer was still on the other side of the room. Aurora reeled back, fighting instinct. Shield him. Stop her. Her hands hovered over the cut, shaking with the need to act, to save him from this pain that echoed from his body to hers. Merida was ripping him apart. His body opened to places not meant to be seen. Bones crunched as his ribs broke
“Merida, please,” she screamed the words. “Wait.” Twin sobs jerked from her throat. “Don’t you have to—”
“Too much damage. I can tell from here.”
“Edmund.” She dropped her head to his, her hair draping over him. He didn’t move. He didn’t breathe. “I love you. Stay with me,” she whispered, begging. She pressed her lips to his, his warmth disappearing, his spark of life flickering. “Please. I don’t want to miss you anymore.”
“Aurora! Keep it together,” Merida snapped. “We’re lucky you were able to keep him alive this long. Now quit laying there and work. Cut the shaft of the arrow as low as you can.”
The sharp orders penetrated Aurora’s fear. She grabbed her cutters and obeyed.
Merida reached into Edmund’s body, pushing her hand between his ribs like an evil witch. Aurora couldn’t do this part. This time she couldn’t even watch. No matter her intention, her power wouldn’t let her damage the body even if it was already hopeless for life.
“Stop pumping his blood.” Merida’s vibes shimmered as she pulled his heart out, slicing it free and stilling his blood with her spells that Aurora didn’t understand.
“Go, Aurora.” The healer’s commanding voice helped her focus even as the bombs got louder. No, not bombs. Spells.
She lifted the shiny, silver heart and slipped it beneath the cracked ribs and among the slippery warmth of his fading vitality. Her vibes shimmered into the metal, and then reached for his lifeforce.
“Are we under attack, Bull?” Merida asked.
Aurora’s mind interpreted the conversation as if she were far away. Dazed but focused, she dwelled in some other world that lived, so wrongly, within Edmund.
“The protection spells have a ceiling component.” Bull said. “There’s nothing but air to muffle their noise, unlike the ones that anchor to the ground. Fifteen more to go.”
“What about the towers? Do they cut off access from the rest of the territory?” Important questions for a healer.
“From the air, yes. But the sewers ought to keep the territory clean since they pump trash vibes to the towers from under the ground.” Bull continued, “He definitely didn’t plan on becoming part of the forest people.”
“I know, I know.” Aurora’s voice was hoarse as she strained to stretch the heart’s vibes toward Edmund’s. “But I can’t let him…” She couldn’t even say it.
“One step at a time.” Merida muttered. “Aurora,” her tone changed, demanding and critical. “That heart’s too small.”
Aurora’s fear leaped high. The air sparkled with her glitter. “I can fix it,” her voice cracked. Her hands shook. “I have to fix it.” Her strident whisper barely fit through her tight throat. She pushed more power through the heart, but her vibes were slipping away. Still too weak, too sick. Too scared. She didn’t want to be alone. Without him.
Bull reached his arms around her middle, her back to his front. He squeezed tight. “You want him, you have to fight for him. You’re strong, little rebel girl. You’re brave. Give him that.” The low, quiet words had a hard rhythm, swirling with focus as if they carried a spell. They beat in time with her blood, with her vibes.
She sucked in a gulp of air, reached for her vibes, and aimed. Channeling her power, her energy, her love for him…she pulled the metal of the heart to thin and grow, coaxing life’s energy to merge with the metal’s enchantment, sizing it and placing it just so to flow into the structure of his own body. One vessel after the other connected, one metal chamber after the other filled and moved until her hands were no longer needed. Just before she slipped her hands out, she tugged the energy of the Rallis bond through the heart. He would never be a rogue. None of her people were.
She closed her eyes and pulled away, her hands dripping with his blood. Her vibes drifted in an airy cloud like a soul freed from its tether. She was paying the price already. She slumped over, laying her head next to his on her workbench. She’d do it a thousand times more if she had to. He was worth it.
Bull wrapped his arm around her waist, supporting her, keeping her standing.
Merida’s hands replaced hers on the heart, flowing power into Edmund’s own pieces that needed mending. “One size fits all? I didn’t know you could do that,” the healer stated, matter-of-fact now that the most pressing threat was over.
“Me either,” she mumbled. She stared over Edmund’s shoulder as Merida worked. The healer sealed together broken ribs, stitched muscle and skin with streams of energy until they looked as if they’d never been ripped apart. Scarless. Alive…if only they hadn’t seen him shot.
The healer lifted her hands, as clean as ever. For whatever reason, blood didn’t stick to the hea
ler’s hands. Aurora stumbled away to wash hers in the sink of the workshop’s bathroom. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, pale and dull, a smear of blood on her face, but she didn’t dwell, returning to his side.
Merida reached into her pocket and pulled out a vial, poured a pinch of powder into her hand and sprinkled it over his nose and mouth. Aurora automatically held her breath until the sleeping potion had dissipated. His heart needed him to rest, time to secure its place within his body.
Merida studied her. Aurora couldn’t quite read her look. Or maybe she just didn’t want to. By bringing Edmund here, she’d ruined everything for Merida. For Lily. For everyone who knew about the unnatural physique-ers. Her actions would expose them all.
She brushed the back of her hand over Edmund’s pale cheek. “I had to help him. I couldn’t not help him.”
“I know,” Merida said softly. “And I’m grateful that you can’t refuse that call. Because if you could have turned your back on him, that means you could have turned your back on Lily.”
“And Izzy,” Bull chimed in. He carried her stool over and placed it beside her, where she could sit and lay her head next to Edmund’s.
Merida shrugged. “I suppose we’re going to live behind this barricade for the rest of our lives. For however long that may be.” She shuffled over and pressed a kiss to Aurora’s forehead. “I’m going to build a snowman with Lily while we’re still alive.” Doomed words, yet a weight dropped from Aurora’s shoulders, an odd lightness lifted her from within. For a moment, she didn’t understand what had changed. She sat up, prodding inward for the answer. It was her secrets…they’d fallen away. She didn’t have to carry them anymore.
She trailed her fingers along his smooth cheek. Though Bull remained at her side, the world narrowed until it was just she and Edmund. She rested her hands against the heat of his chest, steady breaths pulling and pushing beneath her touch. His enchanted heart beat steady and true.