My son appeared through a Gateway behind the Brotherhood leader, practically landing on top of the altar. Sassafras and Jiao flashed through behind him, no sign of Max. For whatever reason, at least Gabriel had backup.
Nice work, Mom! My son’s excitement made me grin and wave at him while Jean Marc spun, animal fury trying to reach Gabriel. He might as well have lay down at my feet and offered his throat.
Everything went away when Jean Marc’s power focused on my kid. Everything. Except the uncontrollable need to kill.
I staggered forward with my power wrapping around Jean Marc’s thick neck. It was only when something hit me hard between the shoulder blades I realized this wasn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
Not when Liander Belaisle and Eva Southway stormed past me, floating on a platform of sorcery, hurtling toward my son and the arm of Creator.
Why did everything freeze in that moment? Why did indecision—painful and wrenching—jerk me to a halt at the sight? Kill Jean Marc. Stop Belaisle. Kill Jean Marc. Stop Belaisle. Like a massive war sprang up inside me, I felt the two powerful needs run headlong into each other and pin me in place as the world spun on around me.
Never before had I felt such contention, the girls locked into it as tightly as myself. And even as events wound out before me, milliseconds really, barely heartbeats, I felt like the statue we were trying to recreate.
Belaisle turned his head in the slow motion my life had become, smiling at me, darkness in his yellow eyes. And lunged for the piece of Creator while my son leaped in his way.
No. No, please. Save Gabriel. Not my son!
And then, in a flare of white, she appeared. Trill Zornov stood between the form of Belaisle, still falling, and my son, now draped over the piece. Belaisle hit her like he’d rammed an immovable wall and bounced back with a shout of surprise and pain.
Jean Marc froze in place, panting, but I could finally move. The shock of Trill's arrival had shattered the war inside me and allowed me to drive a fist of white sorcery into the Brotherhood leader’s back, carrying him to the floor where I pinned him in a net of the same magic. His own fluttered against me, but I piled on more power as I gaped at Trill and tried to figure out just what the hell was actually happening.
“Out of the way, girl.” Eva’s voice sounded about as welcoming as a buzz saw in full blare. Piers wavered beside me but I held out one hand, holding him back. I had lost all trust in Trill when she’d stolen the heart of Creator and betrayed me over and over again. This was the first time I saw any indication she hadn’t lied to me when she said she was on my side.
I needed to know what was going on.
“Not this time.” Trill’s voice carried, calm and quiet. Her slim body stood firm, her power holding off the former Steam Union leader and, when he recovered enough to rise, Belaisle who joined Eva in pushing against the young woman who had been my friend.
I felt their power, the edges of it. Let them shove and batter and jerk on the barrier she’d created between herself and the altar. And did nothing to help her. Because I needed to know, damn it.
It might sound like this took long moments, that I had all the time in the world to absorb what was happening. Truthfully? Maybe fifteen seconds. Enough for Piers to turn to me and glare, to reach for his mother again. And for Eva to pull free of her fight against Trill and grasp Belaisle’s hand, a dark tunnel forming beside her.
They were running. No. Freaking. Way.
Let them go. Trill’s voice in my head, reassuring, so very relaxed. It’s not yet time, Syd. Just let them run.
I did, holding Piers back, trusting for the first time maybe, just maybe, Trill wasn’t my enemy after all. Wondering even as the evil pair fled—Belaisle snarling his fury at me—just who Trill was working for.
There is an order to everything, Trill sent. And to everything an order.
That sounds familiar, I sent, harsher than I intended as the Brotherhood collectively collapsed and Jean Marc’s howl of defeat rang in the small chapel. You and Zoe are tight these days. Mind telling me just what that means?
Trill looked up, met my eyes, a soft, kind smile on her face though her dark eyes brimmed with sadness. I miss you, she whispered in my head. She paused another moment, then nodded, looking down. Pay attention when Wilding Springs goes dark. Another pause. Listen to your heart. She sounded like she’d said more than she intended. And, with that, she vanished.
More questions than answers. How original.
***
Chapter Fifteen
Piers spun me around and hugged me, despite the fact doing so could have jarred loose my control of Jean Marc. Who was I kidding? It was only then I realized my friend had layered his own white sorcery on top of the tight and painful cage I’d build around the prone form of the Brotherhood leader. And that the room was getting very, very crowded, the youthful, furious faces of the Steam Union appearing in tunnels of darkness as he called in his cavalry to contain their enemies.
“Syd.” He swung me side to side before setting me down, a bit breathless, eyes shining. “You know what this means?”
I did. “The end to the Brotherhood.” I grinned at him, suddenly elated myself. How long had we been working toward this? And I’d only been part of the fight for a decade or so. Piers and his people had been fighting for centuries.
It had to feel good.
“Gabriel.” Piers turned his attention to my son who no longer hunched over the arm, his hazel eyes quiet, little face grim. “Can you reverse it?”
Of course. The damaged Jean Marc had done, using the piece to steal Steam Union members for the Brotherhood. I opened my mouth to encourage my son to do so when Gabriel sighed and I knew things weren’t going to go the way Piers wanted them to.
“I’m so sorry,” he said in a voice that sounded more like Liam every day. “That’s not how Creator’s body is meant to be used.” Piers gaped at him while Gabriel turned his attention to me, grief growing. “Mom, I need to get this to the statue before more harm can come of it.”
The renewal of our friendship might be over before I had a chance to enjoy it. Piers’s face darkened, that now recognizable fury rising in him. Hands clenched into fists at his sides, he gestured at the fallen Brotherhood, some of whom I knew were Steam Union converts, feeling Demetrius behind me, seeing him stagger to his feet. “Please tell me,” the young Brit snarled, “you have an excellent reason to leave this mess behind when you have the power to do something about it. Because there has to be a reason.” He shuddered, emotions tearing through him fast and furious. I reached for him with power but he shoved me away, left me to guard Jean Marc alone as Piers stepped back, magic building.
Aimed at my son.
Oh, hell no.
“Please, Piers,” Gabriel said, tears tracking down his little cheeks, one hand reaching out, imploring the furious Steam Union leader. “You have to trust me. This is important.” He bowed his head, shoulders sagging forward. “It’s so heavy.”
I knew he didn’t mean to say that out loud, that my son wasn’t talking to us, or about the piece. In fact, in that instant, I knew what no one else in the room could possibly know, what Gabriel really meant.
Let me carry it for you, I sent.
You have your own burden to bear. My son’s head came up and he managed a small smile, one hand settling on the arm. I’ll be okay, Mom. You worried about me, when Belaisle came. A faint hint of amusement woke in his mental touch. You should know he can’t hurt me.
Good to know. Like that would stop me from worrying in the future.
Gabriel’s good humor faded into pain again. It’ll work out, he sent. I promise. I just wasn’t ready for how angry Piers would be.
You can’t help? I shouldn’t have asked, but damn it. Piers deserved our aid if we could give it. And Demetrius… Gram would never forgive me.
Gabriel’s brow furrowed as he turned, the piece in his hands, giant arm of Creator that should have been too heavy for him to carry floating along
at his side. I thought you, of all people, would know better than to ask.
Consider me chastised. By my eight-year-old. Awesome.
Piers tried to stop him, threw a net of white sorcery at my son. But I blocked him, of course I did, while Sassafras and Jiao formed a wall of protection on the other side. I watched them go, knowing I had to follow, but took a moment to hold Piers tight, while Jean Marc began to struggle. Dividing my attention wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Piers had to understand.
He had to listen.
Let me go. His voice growled in my head. It can’t end like this, Syd. The Brotherhood has won if we are left in this mess.
No, I sent. Trust Gabriel. Piers glared at me, chest heaving as he fought me. He had more than enough magic to create a bigger challenge than I had reserves for at the moment. But it was as if he just wanted me to feel his resistance. And, if you can’t trust him, Piers, trust me.
That got him. He sagged, turned away. And lashed out with all that gathered magic at the prone figure lying before us. Jean Marc cried out in agony, blood spurting from his nose and running out of his right ear.
While I was all for killing the asshat, torture was a bit beyond my needs at the moment. Still, after saying no, who was I to deny the Steam Union leader his revenge?
We all know what vengeance leads to, my vampire sent, soft and kind. And, when Piers flinched and glanced sideways at me, guilt on his face, I knew she’d let him hear her.
“You’re taking away all my fun,” he said, though his tone had softened some, his body no longer rigid with fury.
“Syd.” Demetrius joined us, his pale eyes meeting mine with something akin to shame though this was far from his fault. Still, after years spent insane thanks to the mercies of the Brotherhood, being one of them must have felt like the ultimate betrayal. “Just go. We’ll deal with this.” He gestured at Jean Marc, now unconscious on the stone. “It’s our task to bear.”
Piers bowed his head to the old sorcerer. “What are we going to do?” Such wistful courage in his voice. I wanted to hug him but Demetrius moved past me, gripping his former leader’s arm in his hand.
“Whatever we can to make this right.”
Okay then.
I left them there to deal with Jean Marc, to work out their differences. Maybe this wasn’t the end we’d hoped for—a bit anti-climactic for my tastes, since I loved happy endings—but there might be a way. With the right leader, the Brotherhood at least could be less a worry and more an ally on our plane.
So why, if things were looking a bit up, did I feel like I was betraying them when I stepped through the veil and left them behind?
For the first time I realized the ribbon around my wrist felt tight and stiff, as if it were upset with something. Well, the feeling was mutual. But I had other things to worry about, bigger things. Shifting from personal and plane-wide issues to Universal ones was wearing on me, sure was.
Gabriel stood immobile before me when I appeared in the Stronghold’s inner sanctum, the arm in his grasp, staring up at Max. Mabel and a handful of drach waited quietly behind their leader. While I didn’t feel a wave of animosity or anger, there was clearly enough tension in the air to indicate I’d walked into a standoff.
Sass. I sent his name, tight and worried. Tell me everything’s okay?
Depends on your definition of “okay”, he sent back.
Smartass cat.
“Max.” I stopped next to my son, doing my best not to sigh and shake him when he nodded to me with that same quiet, calm expression he always wore. “What’s up?”
“We’re waiting for you,” he said.
My son glanced up at me, sadness in his face. “Max wants me to hold off on replacing the arm.”
It was clear from Gabriel’s tight mouth and stiff shoulders he disagreed with the drach leader’s suggestion.
Why did I suddenly feel like a TV court judge?
“Max?” I drew his name out, my frustration bubbling. “Reasoning?”
“Only that I fear my suppositions about the pieces are true,” he said. “And that if Gabriel returns the arm to Creator now, we will do more harm than good.”
It was the first time he didn’t seem all that happy about the piece being returned. And I knew why. If Max was right, putting this piece back meant we were speeding the disintegration of the Universe.
“Maybe we should stockpile the pieces from now on.” It did seem a reasonable suggestion. Until my son sighed and shook his head.
“You don’t understand.” So much anger in him suddenly, frustration and irritation, unlike my son. When he looked up, something else lived in his eyes. Not his father, not the boy I loved. Something I didn’t recognize. But I knew the voice when I heard it.
“Creator.” I gasped the name. But no. Not Creator.
The veil. The Universe itself.
Oh. My. Swearword.
Gabriel didn’t acknowledge that I’d spoken. “None of you see the big picture.” He lowered his head, a bull ready to charge. “I have to return the piece. Now.” He took a single firm step forward. “Get out of my way, Max.”
Terror gripped me, for my son and for the Universe. What did this mean? He was becoming the veil? But no, surely not. I could keep telling myself that, make myself feel better, even as the giant, hulking form of the lord of the drach blanched when he looked in my son’s eyes.
And stepped aside.
The drach hummed softly to themselves, Sassafras’s hands on one side, Jiao’s on the other, holding me back as my son carried the arm of Creator to the statue. I could only watch, wanting to weep, unable to help him or do anything as his small body climbed into Creator’s lap and placed the arm in its former position.
The band of black at my wrist flinched a heartbeat before light flared, magic sealing the arm to the statue. I drew a breath at the pain just as the entire world heaved beneath me.
***
Chapter Sixteen
I barely felt the Stronghold shaking under my feet, not when the veil itself shrieked its agony. My magic tore at the edges and I was diving through, Max and the drach with me, Sass at my side. I gaped in horror, holding still with one hand clutching my chest as if I could keep the Universe safe even as, in a ripple of blips in the distance, entire planes snapped like rubber bands and vanished into the darkness.
How long it went on, how many we lost, I can’t say. I only know I was gasping for breath into lungs that finally demanded air when the last one popped, a bubble bursting into the void. I leaned against Sass despite not needing such support inside the veil itself, the feel of his lean form necessary. Touch kept me grounded.
It was a somber group who turned and reentered the Stronghold underchamber. Gabriel sat on Creator’s lap, silent and staring, while I struggled to find something to say.
“At least,” Max finally said in his deep, musical voice, “we have confirmation my fears were correct.”
He could say that again.
I wanted to approach Gabriel, to talk to him, but something held me back. He seemed lost within himself, struggling with who knew what. Did he feel guilt for what he’d been forced to do? I should have gone to him, been his mother. But all I could think about was what I’d seen in his eyes and the fact that I was Doombringer.
The distraction I thought I wanted—careful what you wish for, Syd—appeared through a gap in the veil as Meira strode through, her towering demon form rippling with anger and fear.
“Syd.” She shuddered inside her shining cat suit, long hair swinging around her as she spun and took in the scene before speaking. Good for her for having the presence of mind to try to sort out what was up before diving into her own stuff. Which she did. “You wanted to know if demons were disappearing.”
I nodded, mute, afraid.
She nodded back, grim, equally afraid. “And taking chunks of planes with them.”
“The Node?” That was all we needed, for the teardrop of power holding the demonic planes together to fall apart ag
ain.
Meira shrugged, more out of frustration and lack of knowledge from what she said next. “It’s fine,” she growled, like that was an offense in her eyes. “Stable, strong, happy.” She tossed her hands in the air, scowl so deep it darkened the red around her eyes to black. “It should be a freaking mess and it’s burbling at me like it’s never been so content. Even Ahbi’s acting like nothing’s wrong.”
Weird. Our demon grandmother, her soul now embedded forever in the Node, didn’t take such things lightly, never had. She was too invested—literally, now—in the wellbeing of Demonicon to take this in stride. Which meant the disintegration wasn’t harming her, for now. I’d take that slice of good news. Until it turned into bad news.
Pessimist.
“It doesn’t feel like last time,” Meira said, beginning to pace, my favorite. “But it does, in a way. And it’s got me thinking.” She stopped and pinned Max with her amber eyes. “What about creating a Universal Node? Something to hold the entire veil together?”
Brilliant. Why didn’t I think of that? What an excellent id—
Nope. Max’s big head shook from side to side, a sigh escaping him. I hated when he sighed. It meant a big no way, Jose was coming.
“I wouldn’t even know where to begin,” he said. “The planes of Demonicon are numbered and it is the group consciousness of the demons who live there that make binding them possible.” I didn’t know that, but it made sense. “How do we convince countless world inhabitants that they need to work together when they have no idea the veil and the Universe is even in danger?” Okay, he had a point. “We have only two options,” he said. “Continue reassembling Creator and be the cause of the end of everything, or stop.”
Order Page 8