“Is that so?” Reynolds answered with a smile as he drew closer. “Yet you bring your Tiro here, when I know she would rather be with her young Maestro–the young hopeful that replaced me. Isn't that the truth?”
“Reynolds,” Desmond said steadily, “I have come to hear your proposal. That is all. Are you going to give it to me?”
“I'll show you instead,” Reynolds said as he moved toward them. “Come with me.”
Sienna said nothing, her eyes wide as they followed him to the windowsill. There, several dead plants littered the ground, making her ache. So much dead nature was not good for witches who drew their very life force from nature itself.
“Resurrection,” Reynolds said as they stood by the plants. “The witches' dreamed of mecca. A world where we can save them all, to give everyone a second chance. That is what you always wanted, isn't it, Desmond?”
“Everyone deserves a second chance,” he echoed. “But that is a common fallacy.”
“Second chances are always possible,” Reynolds answered with a twist of his wrist.
Sienna sucked in a breath. He didn't even focus; didn't even blink. The plants twisted back to life, filling with green and rising toward the sun. It took only moments, as their leaves turned out, and their stems moved upwards.
Both she and Desmond watched in silence, feeling the air.
“Reynolds,” Desmond said, quietly, “that is not life.”
“Of course, it is,” Reynolds answered. “Look at them. Who else do you know who can do that?”
“I can,” Sienna spoke up. “I can bring back the dead.”
Chapter 12
Reynolds looked upon her with a smile that made Desmond uneasy.
“I've heard of your power and your skill,” he said. “But also of your flaws. What happens to you when you bring back the dead?”
Sienna swallowed, looking to Desmond.
“She is sick, Reynolds,” Desmond warned. “It would happen to anyone who has that much power inside her.”
“And whose insides are also raging war,” Reynolds answered. “Your magic is based in nature. Mine is not. I can show you how to bring back the dead this way, and it won't harm you.”
Sienna remembered the little bird fluttering in her arms and the brokenhearted look on Nathaniel's face when Eliza lay limp. Both those times, the resurrection had nearly killed her, and she knew she couldn't sustain it. As well, bringing back the dead had opened up portals to the world beyond theirs, wrecking nature's very order.
“The portals?” she asked quietly, and Reynolds shook his head.
“This isn't Nature,” he assured her. “This won't wreck their plan.”
He twisted his wrist again, bringing even a dead leaf that had fallen to the floor back to its green state. Sienna looked on in shock.
“With your permission, Maestro,” Reynolds answered, and Desmond took a long look at Sienna. If he refused her use of this magic, then Reynolds might become suspicious. After all, weren't they supposed to be here because they possibly thought it was right?
“Carefully,” Desmond said at last. He had no idea how Sienna would react when she experienced Acheronian magic for the first time or whether it would make her sick. He imagined it would; it was still magic, after all. He wasn't sure of the medical facilities around, but he had a feeling that they weren't advanced.
“Here.” Reynolds reached out for her, and Sienna pulled back instinctively. A lifetime of medical intervention meant that she associated most touch with pain. Sensing this, he paused just before touching her. “Use your left hand, not your right. And instead of drawing from around you, draw from inside yourself.”
“Huh?” she looked up at him.
“This is the magic of our ancestors, Sienna,” Reynolds answered. “Not nature.”
She closed her eyes, imitating his wrist movements again and again without flooding magic into it. When she felt like she had finally gotten the flow of it, she reached deep inside her consciousness. She had heard about doing this, about drawing from her belly rather than pulling from nature, but she was never sure if it worked, and she didn't dare try.
The leaves crinkled, and she felt her body tingle. She wavered, but regained her focus as she felt the leaves rise, and she opened her eyes.
They were green.
“It's easy,” she said, and Reynolds smiled.
“Isn't it? And how do you feel?”
Sienna paused, assessing. “Fine,” she said, turning to Desmond. “It's easy.”
“And surely something so easy,” Reynolds said softly, “something that doesn't hurt her–after a lifetime of hurt–isn't wrong.”
Desmond had nothing to say to that as he stood watching Sienna. The color was still in her cheeks, and the normal fading vitals after her use of magic were nowhere to be seen. She was smiling, looking at her hands in awe.
“I think that's enough of a lesson for today,” Reynolds said at last. “Go back to Sybil's hideaway, Desmond. Talk to her and Kierry about what good Acheronian magic has brought them. Come back tomorrow, and we'll talk again. I know how you are. You need time to consider.”
“I will,” Desmond said. “But you should know that Nathaniel is on planet and looking for me. And likely Sienna.”
“Ah, Nathaniel,” Reynolds' eyes sparkled. “I heard he got himself into a spot of trouble.”
“Did you have anything to do with it?” Desmond asked.
“No,” Reynolds said, and Desmond could tell he was telling the truth. “No, that wasn't my doing.”
“Whose was it?”
“I'll never tell,” Reynolds said. “But I'm not the only one who knows how powerful your Tiro is. I just know that I will treat her well. And perhaps make her well.”
“We will be back tomorrow,” Desmond said, drawing Sienna close. Reynolds mocked a bow in the way Tiros were expected to formally do with their Maestro in public. It seemed odd, out of place, and it rubbed Desmond the wrong way.
He was surprised they were allowed to exit so easily and without question. He didn't like the way they were able to walk through the streets freely. From what he could tell, no one was watching them; no one was following them.
“Maestro?” Sienna finally spoke up when they were halfway back to Sybil's place. “What is it?”
“His plan was never me,” Desmond said, turning to her. “I think his plan is you.”
Sienna fell silent, trying to process those words. It was what she was afraid of last night as she looked up at the stars. “And what if he doesn't get me?”
“Reynolds is very determined,” Desmond answered. “He will do what it takes to get your power. But he underestimates not only me and Nathaniel, but also you. He will not have you on his side unless you want to go.”
She searched for the expression he used. “You said it wasn't life,” she replied. “With the plants. What was it?”
“Residual energy,” Desmond said. “Animation.”
She shook her head, unable to understand. She didn't want to reach out with the bond, not trusting her own mind right now.
“Walking dead,” Desmond said, and she understood.
“Appearing alive….”
“But dead inside,” he answered. “An imitation of life. The only thing that can create life is nature, no matter what Reynolds thinks.”
“But I did not feel sick,” she answered. “And now, half an hour later, I am still walking. If I had done that with our magic–”
“I can see that,” he said softly. “And I can see Reynolds thinks his intentions are right. That is what makes this whole case so hard for me.”
“Except,” Sienna pointed out, “we are no longer on a case. We are outcasts until the Jurors decide otherwise. Neither here nor there.”
“Hmm,” Desmond answered.
“How was it? To see him? Was it as you imagined?”
“No,” her Maestro answered honestly. “The boy I trained is no longer. Except in moments, in glimpses.”
&nbs
p; “He is powerful,” Sienna said. “Charismatic.”
“Yes,” Desmond agreed. “He would have made a good witch.”
“He might still,” Sienna answered, although she knew that was a far-flung hope.
When they got back to Sybil's hovel, it was quiet. Sybil and Kierry had gone out to the market, looking for supplies. Sienna could feel that Nathaniel was asleep, no doubt sleeping off the poison that had been used to capture him. She searched out Devon and found him on his tablet in the little reading nook.
“Report?” she asked him as she settled on the couch beside him. “Aren't you undercover?”
“Yes, but it's easier to write them now and have them ready when we aren't, than to write them all in one go when we get back,” he said, putting down his tablet with a smile. “You're back safe and sound. How was it?”
“It was….” Sienna searched for the words once again. “It was odd. Strange.”
“That's not the words I would expect someone to use to describe a fallen witch,” Devon said. “Why so?”
“His magic did not make me sick,” Sienna answered. “But more than that, he seemed happy. Content. He had no regrets, and I did not expect that.”
“And Desmond?”
“He's back, too,” Sienna said. “He went to his room. His thoughts are…muddled. It was hard for him, I think.”
“Surely, there is some comfort in seeing that your Tiro is well, even if he took a path that was different.”
“Maybe,” Sienna drew her knees to her chest. “For so long, Devon, I thought there was only one path, and I was failing at it. But now, I see there are other options.”
“Like Reynolds'?”
“I would never walk Reynolds' path,” Sienna answered. “It is unnatural, and I never wanted to be away from nature. I just didn't want to be sick all the time. I just wanted to be strong, for just one moment.”
“When do you feel strong, Sienna?” Devon asked seriously as he took her hand.
“When I'm with you,” she said softly. “When I'm with you and the rest of the world is blocked out.”
“That's strange,” he said quietly. “That's when I feel the strongest as well.”
“Desmond thinks that it's me Reynolds wants,” Sienna said. “It's really me that he's after. And if that's so, then it's two Maestros who have been in danger because of me in two days. I don't know if I can do this.”
Devon saw his chance in that moment, and he took it, speaking boldly. “And if you can't do it?” he asked. “What are the options?”
She looked at him, agape. “What do you mean?”
“If you can't put them in danger,” he said. “And you can't do magic on either path. What are your options?”
“To go away….” she said, before she even realized what she was thinking. “To go away.”
She seemed shocked by the words that had tumbled out of her mouth. But Devon knew they were the truth, fighting to be free.
“We could,” he said, softly. “You and I.”
“Devon...” she said quietly.
“You both know we've been thinking about it for a long while. Unable to fight properly; unable to stand what we are doing to our Maestros. Laura hovers; she takes safe quests. We aren't on the high combat ones anymore, no matter what I tell her I feel. She's afraid, she's cautious, and that's never the person she was before. I hate that I'm doing that to her.”
“Devon, I can't just....”
“But you can,” he said.
“Reynolds did that to Desmond, and it nearly destroyed him,” Sienna said, and Devon squeezed her hand.
“And Desmond survived. You aren't choosing to do horrible, wicked magic. You are stepping away for your health to live out whatever term of life you have left in peace and in restful happiness. There's a big difference. And I promise, I will take care of you.”
“Until you can't,” she said softly.
“Until I can't,” he echoed, staring into her eyes.
She didn't know what to say. She was devoted to her Maestros, not used to being more than a room away from them.
But it was because she was devoted to them that she could entertain this notion. She did not want to cause them pain or any more turmoil than they had already been through. They had been great warriors with a place in history before her. Now, they were exiled because the Jurors were displeased with their choice in her, and Desmond touching Mariah was simply a straw that broke the camel's back.
“I don't know,” she said, although she already did. “I don't know if I can be alone.”
“You won't be alone,” he assured her. “And if there comes a time when you walk this galaxy without me, you know I will always be with you in the magic. Your body may have been betrayed by magic, Sienna, but you trust it. And you know I'll be there.”
“I can't never see them again,” she whimpered, her one condition. But she also knew that she couldn't walk away from Devon again. She loved him; she couldn't deny it. A life without Devon, without taking this opportunity, wasn't something she could face. She would look back and regret this moment if she didn't go with him.
“Once everything blows over,” Devon assured her, “we could see them, and do so often. And they will have other Tiros to heal the wound.”
“Who can pass the tests,” Sienna answered softly. “Who can make them figures in history again.”
“Yes,” Devon brushed back her hair, leaning in to kiss her lightly. “So, Sienna, now that you've seen how people walk a different path and survive, will you walk one with me?”
“Yes,” she whispered. “I will.”
Chapter 13
Nathaniel came back to consciousness like he was walking under water. His mouth felt dry, and his head felt fuzzy. He rolled over, his half-conscious brain knowing that he didn't have anywhere to be. The bed was comfortable and warm, the pillows soft. But he felt cold without Eliza's warm body beside him. He was used to reaching out and pulling her close, feeling her smooth body beside him. It was going to be a huge adjustment to go back to the way things were and to go back to being so alone.
He was confused, though, because the feeling of being alone wasn't usually this bad. It was almost as if there was something else missing.
He pushed himself up, trying to make sense of what he was feeling.
The clock read eight a.m., which meant he was officially on duty.
‘Sienna?’ He reached out with his mind. Why didn't he feel her close by?
“Sienna?” he called out verbally, throwing off the covers. A quick glance in the mirror showed tossed hair and a pale face, but he looked better than he did yesterday. He ran a hand through his hair and threw on a shirt, taking a moment to steady himself before he opened the door. He could feel Desmond in the kitchen; that was no problem. Desmond was safe, and he was close by. What was going on? He had felt them both come home last night; there was no issue there.
“Desmond?” He burst into the kitchen. The look on his Maestro's face told him that something was very wrong. “What is it? Where is she?”
“I don't know,” Desmond answered truthfully. “I thought she was with you for a while, and perhaps you were blocking her thoughts to rest. But I realized as soon as you started waking up that you weren't doing that.”
“How can she just be gone?” Nathaniel answered, and then saw Laura's face, hunching over her tablet.
“Laura?” he demanded, and the young, blonde Maestro looked up. “Laura?”
“Devon is gone, too,” she finally answered.
“No,” Nathaniel was quick to speak on this. “Not again. Reach out to him. Call out to him. He always answers you.”
“He did answer me,” she said. “And all he said was goodbye.”
Nathaniel stopped moving. “What does that mean?”
“My guess,” Laura said, “is that Devon, like Sienna, seems to think that they are a burden. And so, they have saved us the heart break.”
“They've run off together,” Nathaniel ran a hand o
ver his face. “Why? Why would they do that? She isn't a burden. She isn't–”
“Yesterday, she saw the pain of a Tiro walking away from their Maestro,” Desmond said quietly. “That may be what pushed her over the edge.”
“By walking away?” Nathaniel stuttered in confusion.
“By not having us face the reality that she can't take the tests,” Desmond said. “Saving us the position of a rock and a hard place.”
“This is ridiculous,” Nathaniel answered. “There are people out there that want her, and they will clearly stop at nothing to get her. Being out there and unable to defend herself–”
“Excuse me,” Laura's eyes flared. “Devon is one of the best warriors in the school right now. Insinuating that he cannot protect her–”
“Sorry, did your Tiro not walk away because he's dying?” Nathaniel shot. Kierry’s mouth fell open. Up until then, he and Sybil had been leaning quietly against the counter. Sybil was so grateful for Kierry's strong presence, not wavering from her side. Now, she felt the shock ripple through her Tiro.
“What's wrong with Devon? He seems fine.”
Laura shook her head. “It doesn't matter, Kierry. The medications keep him fine. He doesn't really feel pain or the effects. He's a warrior until the end.”
“But,” Kierry turned to Sybil, “couldn't that day be today then? Not to be a pessimist, but…”
“Laura,” Nathaniel demanded, “he may not show the warning signs, but you have the reports. Is there a chance it could be soon?”
His Maestro remained tightlipped, looking at the table.
“Laura!” Nathaniel snapped. “I need to know if my Tiro is about to be alone out there.”
“If someone asked you the same question, Nathaniel, how would you respond?” she asked. “Would you be willing to admit it?”
“How long?!” Nathaniel practically roared at her.
Laura sighed. “It could be soon,” she said, her lip quivering. “But it could not be. There's no way to know. He's so strong.”
“Oh, Creator.” Nathaniel ran a hand over his face. “We're doomed.”
Laura let out a choked sob, shoving back from the table. “Not all of us have your name, your reputation, your support,” she sobbed at him. “It's easy for you, Nathaniel. You have a co-Maestro, you have the queen of Jeffro, and you have the reputation of the greatest warrior. Everyone looks up to you. Losing a Tiro just makes you more of a hero. It leaves the rest of us broken.” And with that, she stormed out of the room.
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