The ship had made it only a few miles inside the perimeter when the solar system collapsed in on itself. The entire solar system had no survivors. Pieces of the Ronan had been found floating for years, verifying that those on board were gone. It had been the biggest tragedy to hit the Academy in centuries.
Desmond had felt the loss more than the others because his Maestro, Dorian, had been on board. Even fifteen years removed from him, he remembered the moment he knew his Maestro was dead.
He had been in the library with Mariah, just as he was today. It felt like a black hole had opened up in his heart that day, bringing him to his knees.
The feelings came rushing back as he stopped dead, staring at it.
“Desmond?” Mariah asked, confused. Without saying a word, he projected the image into her mind. Her jaw dropped. “How is that possible? Are you sure?”
“I doubt my own eyes,” he said as the witch in charge of the hangar approached. Taylor was barely a Maestro himself, and his Tiro beside him was a child. They looked shocked, indicating the sight in front of them.
“What happened?” Thomas demanded. “How is this here?”
“Maestro,” Taylor said, bowing his head, “I don't know. Vevo and I had our backs to the door, marking a parcel for delivery, and when we turned back, it was suddenly there.”
“It flew in without you hearing it?” Thomas asked in disbelief.
“No,” Taylor said. “The doors were closed. We only had our backs turned for one moment, nothing more. There is no way any ship, especially one that size, could suddenly appear. This is impossible.”
“Is it real?” Mariah asked. Desmond scanned the ship as thoroughly as he could. After Dorian had died, he had studied the Ronan extensively. He had learned every detail, every spec that he could, in the hope of finding some way that they could still be alive. Maybe there had been a small escape hatch, a transporter that could have been left intact – something. But the deeper he looked, the more dead-ends he found.
He had come to terms with the fact that his Maestro had been killed and he didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
“It's real,” he said, his voice shaking. “At least, from what I can see. No one could imitate that well.”
“Forget imitation,” Thomas said. “How is it possible that a ship could just appear like this? Doors closed, no one noticed?”
“Sir,” Taylor said, his voice suddenly shaking, “the doors are opening.”
There wasn't a Maestro in the room who didn't know what happened to the Ronan. They had all mourned the loss of so many souls on board who had left them in a blink of an eye. The tragedy had left everyone shaking, and it seemed that they all had a personal connection to the grief that was felt. So many had been promising leaders and pillars of the community. So many of the Tiros had been destined for greatness.
Of course, witches weren't immortal. They had lengthened lifespans, but they did pass away eventually. Becoming one with Nature, death was peaceful – a send-off into the magic that flooded their bodies. However, a life cut short and so unexpected was tragic – so much unrealized potential just gone.
“No one move!” Thomas cried out to the room, standing there in shock. “We don't know what we are dealing with! Arm up!”
The witches flicked their hands, gathering their magic as the door hit the ground. They stood in a defensive position, their knees bent and their shoulders flexed. They were ready for whatever was about to walk down the plank.
“Be on your guard! Be ready with the medical supplies! Just get them onto the ship!” came a voice from the Ronan.
Desmond heard the familiar voice, and his head nearly stopped. His knees went weak, and he dropped Mariah's arm as he took a step forward.
The footsteps coming down the platform took far too long. He stood, memorized, as first the white pants came into view, the black boots shining, and the black shirt, indicating a Maestro of high rank emerged.
And there, standing at the top of the platform, was Dorian.
“Maestro?” Desmond said, his voice quiet.
Dorian's brow furrowed. “Desmond?” he asked, looking around in confusion. “How are we…Aren't we…?”
The others rushed in behind him, ready to save lives. In uniforms that were years out of date, looking just as alive as the day they left, was the team that had left with such promise. The team that had died on the edge of the solar system with no chance at surviving.
“How is this possible?” Dorian asked, taking another step down. “Desmond?”
“I don't know,” Desmond answered, taking a step forward.
“You look…older…much older. Where am I?” Dorian's voice faltered, but Desmond didn't care.
He rushed forward, taking his old Maestro in a hug. “You're at the Academy. You're safe. You're alive. Although, you shouldn't be.” Desmond answered. Dorian looked incredibly confused.
“We were about to land, and then there was an explosion – a blackness. I thought we had made it. Are we…did we survive?”
“No,” Desmond answered, pulling back. “You did not survive the explosion. No one did.”
“Then…” Dorian would have thought they were playing a joke on him had it not been for the fact that Desmond looked many years older. “How am I here?”
“I don't know,” Desmond answered truthfully. “Please, come down, and we will find out together. Come down.”
Dorian said nothing, allowing Desmond to lead him by the arm down the platform to the hangar. They were surrounded by shocked faces, unable to comprehend what they were seeing.
“Mariah?” Dorian asked, reaching out. “Your eyes…”
“A long time ago, Maestro,” Mariah answered as she put out her hands. He took them, looking over her scars with a sad look on his face.
“I get the feeling that I've missed so much.”
“It's all right, Maestro,” Mariah answered. “We will figure it out. Come with us.”
Desmond moved forward only by sheer willpower. He heard the young, confused voices slowly coming down as they looked around.
They had died. There was no question about it. There was no conspiracy theory and no way around it. The ship's pieces had occasionally been accompanied by body parts and blood.
They were gone.
And now they were here.
“Get them to the med bay,” Thomas cried, trying to take control. “I want this hangar locked down and quarantined. No one comes in or out of here without proper authorization, is that clear? No one inspects this ship without the go ahead of the most senior Jurors. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Maestro,” came the chorus of confused voices. They started moving again, taking the hands of the recently returned, trying to explain.
Except no one could explain.
“I don't feel the med bay is necessary,” Dorian said, accompanied by Mariah and Desmond. “I feel fine; I really do. I'm just…oh my…”
The Academy had undergone significant changes over the year he had been away, and he recognized that it wasn't the same building that he left. Walls were different colors and whole wings had been built. None of this could be done in the three days he thought it had been.
“I don't know how this is possible,” Dorian turned to Desmond. “Have you discovered something to explain it?”
“No,” Desmond answered, “we have not. In case you haven't noticed, Maestro, we're all just as baffled as you are. This way.”
He guided him into the med bay ahead of the others. The doors swooshed open, and Tara turned around. When she saw Desmond, she rolled her eyes.
“Are you coming to explain why your Tiro missed an appointment?” she asked. “Because I don't have the time to make it up.”
“What?” Desmond asked in shock.
“She was supposed to come in this evening,” Tara said. “I told both you and Nathaniel that, so why…” Suddenly, her eyes fell on Dorian, and her mouth hung open. “Maestro Dorian.”
“Have we met?” Dorian
asked, squinting at her. “You look familiar, .”
“We…” Tara swallowed. “We saw each other around. I was little more than a child when you…um…died.”
“Did I die?” he asked, confused.
“That's why we are here,” Desmond said softly. “Tara is the most advanced healer this facility has. If anyone can figure it out, it's her.”
“How is this possible?” Tara asked, shattering everyone's confidence in her. “I'm a healer, not a resurrecter. Don't look at me; I can't come up with an explanation. When did you get here?”
“A few moments ago?” Dorian asked.
Desmond took a deep breath. “Tara, there will be a large number of people here in a moment or so for you to access, so I suggest you get started,” he said. “Perhaps by taking vitals?”
“Right,” Tara snapped into medic mode, taking Dorian by the arm. Suddenly, what she said a few moments ago hit Desmond.
“What do you mean Sienna missed an appointment?”
“Exactly what I said,” Tara replied. “Did you forget?”
“Nathaniel is on duty,” Desmond said, glancing at the clock. “Damn it.”
“Well, I suggest you find her,” Tara answered. “You know what can happen if she misses a dose.”
“Desmond?” Dorian asked, and Desmond put a hand on his shoulder.
“Stay here, old friend,” he said. “Since you have left me, I have gained responsibility that I never thought I'd have. I'll explain everything when I get back.”
He was starting to feel overwhelmed by the tasks he had to do at the moment. Even explaining to Dorian what had happened to Reynolds and how Nathaniel and he had come to train Sienna seemed impossible. He wasn't even sure which door he wanted to exit the med bay.
“I'm coming with you,” Mariah said, taking Desmond's arm. “We'll figure all of this out together.”
He wanted to kiss her at the moment. He had never been so grateful for her companionship as in that moment.
Chapter 9
Nathaniel rolled off Laura with a lazy grin. He hadn't meant for it to go this far, but surely something that felt so good couldn't be wrong. It wasn't the first time he had been with a woman that wasn't Eliza, and he had needed it badly. She was good, and he knew it wasn't her first time either.
They didn't talk about how many times they had rolled into bed with someone else under the very nose of the Jurors. There was no need to explain the guilt, the need to keep quiet, or the silence as their magic intertwined. They understood each other.
“Well!” He sat up in her bed, taking a sip of the drink she had poured before straddling him. He wasn't drunk, but he felt good – relaxed, even. All the tension and the stress he had felt before now was gone, his body lose. “Wow.”
“Wow is right,” she said as she grinned, sitting up. “I know that was fast, but oh, Creator...”
“Next time won't be so fast,” he grinned at her. He knew he should get out of bed, pick up his shirt, and leave her room. But he wasn't sure he could stand straight, his legs still quivering. “That is, if you are interested in another time.”
“I wouldn't mind another time,” she said. “Were you thinking right now?”
“Ha,” he grinned. “I'm not seventeen. Give me an hour or so.”
“Mmm, I bet you were stud at seventeen.” She snuggled up to him. “Who can I ask for proof?”
“At seventeen?” he asked. “There was just the one.”
“Ah, the queen,” Laura rolled over to look into his eyes. “Is she going to mind that I've taken you to bed?”
“No,” Nathaniel answered. “I mean, we don't openly talk about it, but we also don't expect the other to act like monks. That would be unrealistic, given our situation.”
“Seems an odd situation to keep up with,” she said. “But more power to you.”
“I also don't…” He tried to put it delicately. “You know this is against the rules.”
“I didn't become a witch yesterday, Nathaniel,” she rolled her eyes. “I won't tell anyone.”
“And try not to think about it,” he said as he swung his legs out of bed. “Especially around my Tiro. Her ability to read minds is off the charts. She saw that I was thinking about kissing you in an idle fantasy earlier.”
Laura grinned. “You were thinking about kissing me?” she teased.
“It was just…you know,” Nathaniel blushed, “one of those things.”
“Obviously, I felt the same way,” she answered as she reached for her clothing.
Nathaniel chuckled, finally finding the strength to get dressed. His plan was to idly saunter out, perhaps head to the library, and then make sure Sienna was on her way back. He did not expect Desmond to suddenly invade his mind.
Where are you?
The force of the thoughts nearly threw him backward.
What's the matter? he asked, confused. Laura recognized the look on his face and knew he was speaking through a bond. She froze, waiting for him.
Where are you? Desmond repeated.
I'll be in the blue hallway in a moment. Nathaniel dressed as quickly as he could, buttoning up his shirt and sliding into his pants.
“What's the matter?” Laura asked, confused. Nathaniel shrugged.
“I don't know,” he said. “Desmond won't say. I hope it's not Sienna,” he said. “Shouldn't they be back now?”
Laura searched her mind, calling out for Devon. “Uh oh,” she said, and Nathaniel stopped.
“What?”
“Well, they aren't at the pool hall anymore,” she said. “I see…a park. It's dark.”
“Oh, my Creator,” Nathaniel growled as he pushed Laura's door open.
He came face-to-face with Desmond, standing there and looking entirely unimpressed. Desmond's thoughts were confused, bouncing everywhere. Nathaniel had never felt him in such a state.
“What's the matter?” he asked. Desmond opened his mouth, but apparently couldn't decide what was the most important thing. Behind him, Mariah filed in. She didn't have to have sight to know what Nathaniel and Laura had been up to.
“There's a situation in the hangar,” she said. “All witches are asked to return to the Academy immediately until we sort it out.”
“And our Tiro is MIA,” Desmond said. “Apparently, she missed an appointment with Tara.”
“I completely forgot about that,” Nathaniel said as Laura joined him, trying to look put together. “What situation in the hangar?”
Nothing prepared him for the story Desmond told him in half, shocked sentences.
“What?” Nathaniel asked as he finished. “No, how is that possible? It's not possible. This must be some sort of trick; some sort of illusion. Or there must be an explanation!”
“Nathaniel,” Desmond said. “One thing at a time. Where is Sienna?”
“With Devon,” Laura said. “They went to play pool in the city, but right now, I think they are walking in Swift Park.”
“They did what?” Desmond clearly did not agree with what they had been allowed to do. “Did you know?”
“I let her go,” Nathaniel answered. “I didn't see the harm in it – not for just a little bit. But how can the Ronan be back, Desmond? How can this be possible?”
“Nathaniel, if I had an answer for you, I'd give it to you,” Desmond replied. “Are you in the right state of mind to go get her?” He could smell the liquor on Nathaniel's breath, although his former Tiro did not seem incapacitated.
“Yes,” Nathaniel answered. “Laura, alert Devon that we are coming for them. Sienna probably won't answer me if she's distracted.”
“Distracted by the lovely duck pond?” Desmond raised his eyebrow. “I need to get back to the med bay if you two are going as well.”
“We'll bring them back safely,” Laura promised, and then gasped. Everyone froze.
“What?” Nathaniel answered as Laura shuddered.
“It's Devon. We've got to go now.”
“Why?” Nathaniel asked. “Are they in
danger?”
“We need to go now,” Laura closed her hand over his, and Nathaniel didn't question it, following her out of the room. His head was spinning as he absorbed all the information they had been told.
“It's not possible that they are alive,” Nathaniel said. “Dorian was barely dead when Desmond came to me. Over the years, we went over the Ronan explosion again and again. There was no way out of it.”
“Every day, we discover that magic does something that we weren't sure of before,” Laura said. “It's possible this is a case of that. Fourteen teams of Tiros and Maestros – the magic on that ship would have been off the charts! Who knows what safety net they created for themselves; what protective spell that they could have put on at the last second?”
“That would have them missing all these years?” Nathaniel asked, and Laura tensed. “What's happening?”
“Sienna isn't in danger,” Laura assured him. “It's Devon. I think something isn't agreeing with him.”
“Laura,” Nathaniel felt intimate enough with her now to ask her what was happening. All the things that she had said before and the way she changed the subject whenever she was asked about Devon's tests – something wasn't adding up. “Are you in the same position as I am?”
He put it as delicately as he could, and Laura's eyes turned toward him. To his surprise, he found tears in them.
“Will I be a Maestro wandering in the dark in a few years, knowing that my Tiro will slip away before me?” she asked. “Yes.”
He heaved a great sigh. “I'm sorry.”
“No, no,” she wiped away her tears. “I shouldn't complain. You two have it worse. Devon's illness is known; he feels no pain most days. We have decided to act as normal, and continue until we can't. But you two…what you go through with her – I don't envy you.”
Laura squeezed his hand, and he sent thanks up to the universe that he had met her. “It's hard at times,” he said, “but it is worth it. Desmond and I have such different styles, and I think we want very different things for her future.”
“But you want her to have a future,” Laura said. “The same as I want for Devon, which is why I am not as strict on him as I should be. I just want him to be happy, regardless of what kind of witch he becomes.”
Dixon Page 29