"Why are you telling me all this now?"
"Don't you know? I had to come. I had to tell. Nicola opened my eyes, showed me how petty and cynical I have become. She said you and I needed to reconcile, to reminisce about the precious times we had with William so that we can know deep in our hearts how much he appreciated our love for him." She looked into his eyes. "So we can heal."
The world spun, and Malcolm realized that Nicola's powerful character, her indomitable spirit, were at work even now, even though she knocked at death's door.
Malcolm jerked when Lady Teresa grasped his hand. She held on tight. "Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me? To help me remember all the enjoyable times we had together as a family?"
"For Nicola..." His voice broke. "For Nicola I can do anything." Her potent will pulled at his heart, his very soul—that incredible power that could turn warlocks into saints, trolls into pixies, devils into angels, could be felt even now as she lay on the brink of death. The knowledge humbled him, made him want to howl at the moon, scream at the stars, for his devastating emptiness of having lost such a great love—more powerful than money or any foul deeds his misdirected mind could have devised.
"Thank you, brother." She glanced at Nicola, her pale face drawn with worry. "What a woman you have found, Malcolm. She is the epitome of strength and stubbornness to force us together. I pray she'll recover…" She ended in a sob. Biting her lip, she turned to him. "Malcolm, you look awful. Let me sit with her while you get some rest."
"No!" The hoarse panic he heard in his voice merely underscored his terror. He took a deep breath and rubbed the stubble on his chin. "I can't leave her."
"All right," she said in a soothing tone. "I'll be in the drawing room, and I won't leave until…" She faltered. "I'm here for you, dear brother."
The door clicked shut and he was alone with his love. His eyes burned from lack of sleep, his throat ached from torment. All he could do was stare at Nicola's ashen face. How could such a lively face look so lifeless, so absent? A strange shaking attacked.
"Any change?" Ramsey asked from the doorway.
"No."
"It's my fault. If I hadn't participated in the riot, this would have never happened." His eyes were bleak.
"And I should have never gone hunting with my brother all those years ago."
Ramsey stepped farther into the chamber. "Hunting? That seems innocent enough. How were you to know that he would fall?"
"And how were you to know that Nicola would be at the coaching inn to be caught in that riot?"
"What was she doing there, anyway?"
"Running from me."
"Nicola? Running? Not on your life."
"Oh, yes. You must understand, the day I tried to send you away, I also told Nicola that I could never love her. I have been so eaten up with guilt that I couldn't even accept the purity of her love. Whatever happens, if she…" He couldn't voice his worst fears. "Don't live your life in remorse and regret. Incidents happen beyond our control. She wouldn't want you to live in darkness."
"You're right, she wouldn't," Ramsey agreed, eyes moist.
"My lord?" Mrs. White said from the doorway.
"What is it?"
"This stockinger insisted on seeing you. I tried to stop him—"
"M'lord." A man stepped into the room, pulling on his forelock. "Pardon my impertinence, but I wanted to give this to you." He held out a swatch of the most beautiful yellow hue that Malcolm had ever seen. "Lady Nicola named it Forsythia. She said her love for you inspired the creation of it. That you were brightness and joy. She wanted me to weave a cloth with the Forsythia and the Clockwork Blue, since the color so matches your brother William's eyes. I thought... I thought mayhap you would want to see it."
With numb fingers, Malcolm took the cloth. The bright shimmering yellow contrasted with the rich blue and symbolized all that was important to him. By the time he looked up, the stockinger had left.
"How can she be on the brink of death, Ramsey, when she still lives in so many people's hearts?" She was in his heart, and he realized too late that she had been for a long time.
Ramsey squeezed his shoulder. "Don't worry. She knows you love her."
He wouldn't argue, but neither would he believe in such a miracle. As he watched her still chest, he knew that any sunny optimism he might have ever had would be forever gone in the darkness that had enveloped his beloved.
Glissando hid in the drawer that had become his home during the mission and watched Nicola lie near death. It had been a week since the fateful accident. Malcolm sat nearby, the shadow of stubble on his cheeks giving him a sinister look. His eyes were hollow, desperate, and he continued to cling to her hand.
He had underestimated the Mrasek. They had discovered the true nature of the mission, and had let loose the specters onto Malcolm soul. If there was any dark doubt in Malcolm's heart, the specters would enhance the feelings. Now the Clockwork Blue would weaken. The color would fade into obscurity and the English soldiers would not be able to reap the power of its magic during the upcoming war.
Glissando glanced down at his wings. They were charred, and he could still fly, but the aching hole in his soul indicated his magic was gone. Although his magic would have been gone anyway because he had broken another rule, the Mrasek had been the ones who stole it. Tom Ryder had reaped his revenge. Now, all he could do was hide, and hope they never found him. Thank goodness the drawer had been slightly ajar. He stood by helplessly as he watched Nicola slumber in a deep sleep from which she would never awaken.
"You look pretty good for a pixie who's lost his magic," Allegro said behind him.
"Allegro!" Glissando cried. Before he realized what he was about to do, he threw his arms around his dear adversary. "What are you doing here?"
"Someone had to come rescue you and Nicola." After returning the bear hug, Allegro pushed away and gave him a solemn look. "I'm sorry I didn't listen to you. Somehow I missed all the signs of a pending catastrophe. You were right."
Surprise momentarily froze Glissando. "You're admitting you were wrong?"
"Stars, yes, I was wrong. Tell me what happened."
"She got knocked in the head while saving Ramsey."
"I know that much—after all, we saw the prediction in the crystals. What happened after that?"
"She...passed out."
"Yes, yes, go on. What happened next? Who found her?"
"Well, Ramsey was already there, and I helped Malcolm locate her." At the impatient wave from Allegro, he continued, "Then, at Malcolm's instruction, Ramsey lifted her into the saddle with him before running for the doctor, and that was it."
"You're forgetting something."
Glissando frowned. "Excuse me, but I don't think so."
"Something else happened to alter the events."
What was Allegro getting at? He had a fierce look of concentration on his thin face, so Glissando decided to go along with him. It was better than merely sitting around helplessly waiting for death. "I think Nicola was running away because Malcolm still refused to love."
"Yes, yes, I know—but that isn't what concerns me. Think, man, what happened after she was knocked senseless?"
"What do you want me to say? She was out cold, asleep in the unnatural state she's in now? She kept calling for us, and, my God, I was right in front of her nose but she couldn't see me."
Allegro jerked his head around. "She awakened?"
Foolish that he hadn't thought of that. "Oh, yes, I forgot to mention that part. And Malcolm began to humor her, telling her that he would do whatever she wanted, but that she was talking nonsense. He said it all tenderly, but basically let her know she was a foolish romantic."
Allegro paced, and Glissando wondered what the pixie was thinking. "She was supposed to recover from this. It was in the crystals. Do you think Malcolm is keeping her from getting well because he lacks faith in magic?"
"Why, I don't know. Are you thinking about that time Nicola tried to con
vince him that magic and love were synonymous? We know it's true, and Nicola knows it's true, but could Malcolm's disbelief be strong enough of a negative force to hinder her healing?" Again, he thought of the Mrasek, Tom Ryder, and the gadgets that siphoned dark powers from Lord Sethos in his Underworld prison.
"From all my metaphysium studies at Coda, I think it's a strong probability."
Glissando's hands balled into fists. "She'll die if he doesn't believe."
"Then I'm going to change his mind." Allegro's lower lip thrust out in stubborn determination.
"How?" But Glissando already knew.
"Violate Article 2, Section I."
He stared at Allegro, stricken with a sense of panic. It was the clause that Maestro had warned them not to breach. The one that forbade pixies to reveal themselves to a human who wasn't a Chosen One. By looking deep into his friend's eyes, he knew the pixie understood the ramifications. "You'll be ostracized for a year," he said needlessly.
Allegro gave him a half smile and shrugged. "As Maestro predicted, when I decided to break a rule, it would be a whopper."
"Don't forget the resulting crack that will occur in the enchanted locks throughout the country." Glissando shuddered at the thought of the ugly trolls escaping from their homes under the earth, not to mention the gargoyles, wreaking havoc on the lands once again. What had he been thinking, to work for the Mrasek? Had he weakened the barriers that held the Underworld at bay? Another thought occurred to him. "And you'll be in their midst, without the haven of Jubilant to protect you!"
"Ah, well, I'll survive," Allegro replied bravely.
Glissando didn't remind Allegro that none of the outcast pixies pulled through without Jubilant. All the ostracized pixies died. Guilt wrenched his throat so hard he could barely speak. "Let me break the law and reap the consequences!"
"No, Glissando, you've already lost the magic. You can't. It's up to me. Besides, Nicola is so far gone that I might need to use a little of my own magic to prepare the channel that will carry Malcolm's magic love to her."
"What do you mean to do?"
"I'm going to use the twenty-third chant from the Book of Lumière Spells."
"Oh my, oh my. That will only add to the disaster and make the rift to the Underworld even harder to repair."
Allegro squared his jaw. "I'm up to the challenge."
"But-but, what about your dreams of becoming mayor?"
"We can't look back, eh, Glissando? At least you'll have stories to tell your grandchildren. Perhaps my sacrifice and bravery this day will be sung by the bards."
Glissando stared at Allegro, whose eyes were bright with forced cheer. Lumps of coal weighed down his wings. His nose tickled, causing him to sniff, and wetness rolled down his cheeks. "You are the best friend a pixie could ever have."
"So are you, Glissando, so are you." After patting his shoulder, Allegro glanced down at Nicola. "She looks too pale and her life light is almost gone. If I wait any longer, her death will be irreversible."
It was true. Glissando knew humans couldn't see the ring of energy that surrounded them. But he and Allegro could, and Nicola's ring was becoming dangerously dim. His throat constricted at the thought of her no longer on Earth.
"All right, here goes," Allegro said and stepped out of his invisibility bubble.
Malcolm stared at the miniature light bug, wondering how it had flown up to this third-story bedchamber. He started to glance away, then something about the insect caused him to look again. A thin elfin face with a scooped nose and a blur of wings were attached to a body with humanlike arms and legs. The chamber spun, and for a moment he thought he was as unconscious as his beloved.
"I am Allegro Soprano, the pixie Nicola has told you about. Are you going to finally acknowledge that I exist, or are you going to pretend you never saw me?"
The creature talked. "Bloody hell! I must be hallucinating from grief and lack of sleep." Fiercely, he rubbed his eyes.
"Not so, sir. How can you deny what you see in front of your very face?" The small, bright yellow creature shook his wee finger at him, making Malcolm feel like a lad being chastised. "And don't start thinking that this is some sickness you've caught from Nicola. She's known about us almost all her life, and she needs you to believe in magic, for magic is the only thing that will save her now—that is, the magic of your love."
In awe, Malcolm lifted his finger to touch the pixie. It was real. A sensation of wonder, of solid light, traveled over his skin, brightening the dark cavern where his heart lay hidden, a canal of sorts opening up his soul to the sun. His Nicola knew of this magic all along because she was enchanted herself. He knew it now as surely as he knew the sun rose and set, as surely as he knew the seasons, as surely as he knew he loved Nicola with all his heart and soul.
"Do you believe?"
"I do," Malcolm whispered.
"The darkness has left you—you are no longer the Black Falcon," Allegro declared and grasped a handful of pixie powder. Then he glanced toward the dresser. What did the pixie see? Could it be the other pixie, Glissando?
Allegro began to chant:
Light upon light, the flight of the dove, heed the Falcon's avowal of love, so that his magic will make you well thus, with a kiss, break this spell.
The pixie flicked his wrist, releasing a sparkling glitter of magical dust from a wand that suddenly appeared in his hand, a discordant D and C sharp rending the universe. Then Allegro cried out. Mystical lightning hit him, knocking him off his feet, throwing him against the hard side of the drawer.
Malcolm stared in horror at the pixie's unconscious form, its smoking wings engraved with musical sharps. Though he didn't know what it meant, he hoped the little creature's sacrifice wasn't too late—that his efforts would bring Nicola back to the living.
Nicola floated in a sea of nothingness, in limbo between two universes. One she was familiar with—there was pain and hurt. The other realm before her signified eternal light and love. Peace and goodness vibrated through the atmosphere, glowing in a warm force filled with acceptance.
Malcolm didn't love her. The mere memory of that pain was enough to make her want to run as quickly as possible toward the Light.
But someone called to her from Earth.
She was tired, so drained of energy, and she wanted nothing more than to give up the struggle and travel to the bright light at the end of the tunnel.
The call sounded closer and... familiar. She could hear the deep pain in his tone, could see the anguish in his handsome features. Malcolm. She couldn't hear his words but she could see his tears as he leaned over her, stroking her cheek with a sort of reverence. A sparkle of magical dust, not resembling the pixies' enchantments, but deeper, more profound, more... eternal glittered and pulsed into her very veins, her heart. The magic of Malcolm. The magic of Malcolm's love. She knew it as inherently as she knew the sun would rise, the trees would grow, that something had changed to make Malcolm believe—believe in magic, believe in love.
"You're not ready yet for the heavenly clouds, lass," Allegro whispered through her subconscious.
Warmth beckoned to her. She felt wetness trickle down her nose and puddle near her cheek. Malcolm's tears.
He needed her desperately, craved her. And he believed. No, her time for death hadn't arrived. Not yet. She must return. With resolve, she fought her way back through the layers of atmosphere toward her destination.
Allegro opened his eyes and immediately noted the healthy yellow hue of Nicola's life ring. "She's going to be all right," he said, his deep sigh heartfelt.
Glissando had been leaning over him. At his words, he followed Allegro's gaze. His wide grin held worlds of relief. "Thank the blessed enchantments of Malcolm's love," he murmured.
The profound joy Allegro felt caused the deep ache in his wings to dissipate. With a lump in his throat, he watched as Malcolm openly wept, holding Nicola close.
"Does it hurt?"
He knew Glissando referred to the brands on his
wings, which meant he was ostracized. As he tore his gaze from the tender reunion between Malcolm and Nicola, the pain returned. Adding to it was realization of the repercussions of his law-breaking. The threat of expulsion from his home hit him with the force of a two-ton troll. "No," he lied. Standing, he willed the burn away so that he could show a brave front. "Well, that is that. Malcolm has declared his love for her three times now, and he truly adores her. She's hale and sound, except for a throbbing in her head."
Clockwork Blue (The Lumière Chronicles) Page 31