Round Trip Fare

by Barb Taub

  For a long minute, nobody spoke. Then Connor pulled his sister into a hug. “No matter what happens, I’m so glad to see you again. Gaby would be proud of you, and so would Harry. And I love you.”

  As she hugged back, she felt his gift surround her with waves of peace and love. She realized she hadn’t told him about Harry, but knew that would have to wait. “There’s so much to tell you. But right now, I’m just so happy we’re together.” Pulling back, they smiled at each other, and then he looked up to meet Yosh’s dark eyes. Neither spoke until Connor held out a hand. Yosh hesitated, glanced at Carey, and gripped the extended hand.

  Connor stepped back. “I’ll just be over here for a minute.” He melted into the darkness.

  She looked down at her phone. “Twelve minutes.”

  Yosh cleared his throat. “Carey.”

  “Shhh. I know.” She moved into his arms. “For the next twelve minutes, I just need to feel you next to me.”

  A sound like muted thunder rolled over the wind, and she chuckled. “Sounds like Stanley didn’t appreciate waking up.”

  His arms wrapped her with a desperation neither acknowledged. Through the ear pressed to his chest, she heard him speak as though they were in the middle of a conversation. “So…I have a house.”

  She tilted her head up to look at him. “Where?”

  “It’s in Null City. I bought it when I thought the war was over and I’d move back. It’s in one of the older neighborhoods, just a little bungalow from the thirties with a deck in the backyard. Wood floors and a nice old fireplace with a woodstove insert. It has three bedrooms but only one bathroom. Right now it’s rented, but the family in it wants to move out because I won’t sell it to them. When we get married, we could live there. Add another bathroom, maybe a room for the baby. Put a swing in the backyard for the kids. And a picnic table on the deck for cookouts.”

  “Wow. Kids…Okay.” She put her hands on either side of his face and absently rubbed her thumbs along his lips as she looked up. “A picnic table sounds nice.”

  He nodded.

  Connor cleared his throat behind them. “We should go.”

  Dogs by their side, the three of them climbed the steps leading up from Stanley’s cave to the bridge surface. Near the top, they checked the time. Two minutes. Barriers with flashing lights and detour signs proclaiming “BRIDGE CLOSED” blocked the entrance to the bridge. Stepping around them, they moved to the center of the roadway.

  Ten yards in, Yosh dropped behind a pile of construction bricks and supplies for the unfinished suicide barrier. As she passed him, she saw his crossbow up and ready. Covering their backs.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  August 2011: Aurora Bridge, Seattle, Washington

  Carey and Connor walked steadily forward. It really was, Carey thought, a beautiful night to die. Lights from the city splintered into crystal flashes against the surface of Lake Union and the boats moored below. A warm breeze whispered scents of the water and the trees around them. One of the boats must have been hosting a party, the sounds of mellow jazz and laughter momentarily loud and then muted as a door closed. It would have been romantic as hell except for feeling that she was standing naked, and all the guys with guns were waiting to see her tap-dance.

  A hundred feet ahead a figure stepped out from a group of about a dozen soldiers. Narcorial. With a dancer’s consummate grace, he glided toward them. When he was about twenty-five feet away, Carey raised a hand. “Close enough.”

  He paused. Nodded. “I only need one of you.”

  “Where’s Director Jeffers?”

  Narcorial lifted a hand. His group moved apart to show Jeffers, wrists bound behind him, standing at the still unprotected edge of the bridge. Behind him was a sheer drop to pavement over a hundred feet below. She wondered why he wore the well-known face of Director Jeffers instead of the fallen angel Raziel.

  Carey raised her voice. “Are you okay, sir?”

  Jeffers regarded her steadily.

  “He’s given me his word.” Narcorial flicked his wrists as though shaking back loose sleeves, then folded his arms. Carey remembered thinking once before that he seemed bemused by his close-fitting dark shirt. “As long as neither of you is harmed, he will not attempt to speak with you.”

  Jeffers raised one trademark bushy eyebrow.

  Carey raised a brow back. One corner of Jeffers’ mouth twitched, and his nod was infinitesimal. Oh, he intends to communicate all right.

  Narcorial’s face was serene, his voice carrying softly across the distance separating them. “Which of you will be coming with me?”

  Carey looked at Connor, picturing the guns aimed at him. She edged forward until she was standing in front of him. What was taking Leigh Ann so long? Time for a little naked tap-dancing.

  “Well, see that’s the thing. Connor and I were talking, and we think we’ve already been apart too long.” Her unspoken words were clearly visible in her glare. And just who do we have to blame for that? “So the fact is that neither of us particularly wants to head off with you.”

  As far as Carey could tell from his reaction, she might have been giving him a weather report. Where the hell are you, Leigh Ann?

  “I think you don’t understand what’s at stake.” His voice was gentle, beautiful.

  “Why don’t you tell me about it?”

  “Your own history tells you. Humans have failed—not just once but at almost every opportunity—to act responsibly. Their actions came close to destroying this world, and even to unmaking Creation. That’s the very real risk we all face as long as the Book stays in human hands. Can you honestly say that you would condemn every life in this and all other worlds? Who are you to take that gamble?”

  Carey thought for a moment. “As a race, we humans are gamblers. But even more, we’re learners. We learn where we went wrong. We make mistakes—there are some doozies going on right now all over the world—but we usually manage to pull ourselves through them.”

  “Can you promise you’ll learn fast enough to guarantee the Book won’t be misused?

  She thought about lying and shrugged. Nah, go for it. “No. Humans don’t come with guarantees. It’s that whole free-will thing, you know. But we don’t survive by standing still either. We have to make our own choices. And it does work. I have friends in Watcher and Fallen Courts, and they say they get more ideas and inventions from humans these days than they ever send back.”

  She glanced at Jeffers, who lowered one eyelid. She grinned. “And anyway, a bunch of your lot have Fallen and joined up with us. There must be a reason they’re ready to become like us messy, disorganized, untrustworthy humans. Can you say that you’ve learned how to use the Book to make your own side happy? For all I know, it will be even more dangerous in your hands. I certainly don’t see any signs that angels have done a very good job so far.”

  For the first time, Narcorial stiffened. “All of my existence has been dedicated to celebrating and preserving Creation.” His beautiful face froze in austere rejection. “I don’t want you or any other part of Creation to be hurt. But everything I’ve seen tells me that humans, with their tiny, self-centered little lives, are not capable of making sacrifices for bigger goals.”

  Carey laughed. “And that just might be why angels keep falling, while humans keep advancing.” In the distance at the end of the bridge, she saw headlights and raised her voice. “We don’t have to think in those terms. Our lives are too short to worry about all of Creation. Lucky for us, the things that worry you about us—our curiosity, our willingness to gamble, and our self-centered interest in ourselves and our families—are what will keep us moving forward. And they are what will make you lose.”

  Narcorial and his soldiers whirled as a massive truck screamed toward them from the south end of the bridge. Two-thirds of the way down, it swung around across lanes, stopping broadside. Leigh Ann hopped from behind the wheel of the Accords Agency’s only armored vehicle and sheltered behind the truck’s protected wheel
s even as a hail of bullets pounded its steel-plated sides. Super-sized and reinforced to handle the largest shifter or nonhuman prisoner, it neatly bisected the bridge, cutting the playing field by two-thirds.

  Carey and Connor dove behind the pile of construction materials next to Yosh. Her phone buzzed with texts.

  Anton: Explosives mostly neutralized. 2 guards down. Feyala says 5 minutes to take out the guns.

  Claire: Sorry we’re late. Stopped off for mani-pedis.

  Carey: Funny. Not.

  Claire: Peter & imps took out 3 guards blocking bridge. Did we miss the fun?

  Carey: Take cover while Stanley takes care of guns in 5.

  Yosh pointed. “I don’t think we have five minutes.”

  Carey followed his finger to see Jeffers locked in a struggle with one of the Outsider soldiers. His arms, no longer bound, were around the other man’s neck, the final twisting motion unmistakable. As the man dropped, Jeffers grabbed his gun and knife.

  “Sir!” Carey screamed. “Stanley’s awake.”

  Jeffers froze, then flung the gun in a long arc toward the remaining group of soldiers. Narcorial, watching with eyes narrowed, immediately threw his gun over the side of the bridge.

  From below came a rumble, shaking their feet. The explosives! But no—the rumble just rolled out as the bridge began to shake.

  “Earthquake?” Yosh grabbed for her.

  “Stanley.” She reached back to pull Yosh down. “Connor, duck!”

  The night lit with flashes as each gun and bullet exploded. Outsiders dropped, screaming their shock and agony.

  But Carey’s eyes were fixed on the two men in the deadly dance along the unprotected bridge edge. Narcorial, holding a long sword that seemed to have blue flame licking along its edge, moved quietly around Jeffers in a graceful arc. Jeffers, armed with the knife from the fallen soldier, twisted cautiously to stay out of reach of the blue-lit sword.

  Reaching to the sheath on her back, Carey drew out her own sword. She waited until the deadly dance brought Jeffers around and screamed again, “Director. Arm up.” A flick of her arm sent the sword across the bridge surface. He smoothly bent to retrieve it and rose to meet his opponent’s attack.

  With his own sword’s longer reach, Narcorial slowly drove Jeffers back. A glance at the unprotected bridge edge behind him had Jeffers stepping forward in a whirling attack. But Narcorial’s blue-edged blade met the shorter blade with a twisting upthrust that sent it flying over the edge. As he raised the lethal blue-flamed weapon, Narcorial paused. “I never wanted it to come to this, brother.”

  Jeffers grunted. “It was never going to come to anything else.”

  Narcorial nodded, and took a step forward. Then he looked surprised, and stumbled. Blood trickled from above his ear. He flinched again, and went down to one knee. Running toward them, Zach dropped the slingshot to awkwardly pull out the huge sword strapped to his side. He looked at it for a moment as if unsure how it got there.

  “Throw it, idiot.” Leigh Ann’s shout was pure annoyance.

  Looking relieved, Zach threw the sword to Jeffers, just as Narcorial whirled his blue-gilded blade into Zach’s side. Before he could follow up, Jeffers’ yell of fury had him raising the sword to meet his enraged opponent.

  Zach went to his knees and crumbled to the bridge deck, as Leigh Ann’s scream of absolute fury split the night.

  “And that’s our cue.” Carey and Yosh ran forward to drag Zach back behind the construction debris sheltering them.

  “I haven’t had a chance to recharge,” Connor warned. “I’ll do as much as I can.” Leaving Connor bent over a shuddering Zach, hands on either side of the sword wound, Carey and Yosh moved out to engage the remaining soldiers.

  While their little group was outnumbered by more than two to one, several of the Outsiders were injured when their guns exploded, and they were clearly not expecting close fighting. But they had been well-trained, and waited confidently, some in a fighting crouch, knives ready, and the rest falling back to defensible positions behind the piles of construction materials. Yosh, Carey, Peter, and Claire moved to face them.

  Knife fights were something the movies usually got wrong. They didn’t go on and on in a choreographed ballet of thrust and parry, but were usually over in moments. As Jeffers had trained the four of them, you fight fast, fight ugly, and not losing is far more important than winning. From the corner of her eye, Carey saw Claire, shuriken extended as she mouthed spells. Peter was a silent wraith, swooping to drop an opponent and then ducking back out of range.

  Leigh Ann stood back, waiting for openings to launch her “javelins.” In the bridge’s emergency lighting, her face was thin, ancient, and coldly amused as she methodically worked through her spears. Carey took a moment to wonder how the four spears she’d seen Leigh Ann pick up hadn’t run out yet.

  Then she noticed that Marley stood alone, rapier drawn. Carey was about to yell for her to take cover when an Outsider attacked. Dancing back, Marley’s rapier flew to slash his wrist. As bright blood arced out, imps rushed him with their axes. Carey turned back to the battle.

  An Outsider was sneaking around from behind Claire. Peter yelled a warning, and she turned, shuriken extended. With a serene face and a few mouthed words, she hurled the spelled shuriken to bury itself in the Outsider’s throat as his knife arm chopped toward her.

  Carey was facing two opponents, Harry’s silver knife flashing. Then one of the Outsiders stumbled slightly before Connor’s hand eased him to the ground. As Carey turned to confront the other Outsider, she saw Yosh fighting a pair of soldiers who were driving him back toward a third soldier lurking behind a pile of bricks.

  “Bain. Defend Yosh!” Bain leaped for the knife arm of one of Yosh’s opponents, swinging him around. As he slashed his knife into the dog’s side, the Outsider’s momentum brought him into the path of Leigh Ann’s last spear.

  “Bain!” Carey screamed, her fury piercing the frozen calm center that usually took over during battle. Shaking with eagerness, she thrust a shuriken at her opponent’s shoulder while her arm drove the silver knife under his ribs and up to pierce his heart. She stared into the stranger’s eyes for a moment as the light went out before letting him drop. More! Her dog was dead. She needed to hurt more of them. Her eyes searched for her next target.

  From the far side of the construction pile, she spotted the lurking Outsider silently creeping into position behind Yosh just as Hell screamed again. The soldier was still for a moment and then leaned back against the bricks as Connor’s arms lowered his body gently to the ground. Connor slumped down next to Bain’s body.

  She wiped blood dripping from a slash over her eye that she didn’t remember getting, and looked around. The fight, she thought, had taken less than five minutes. Yosh was methodically checking each of the fallen Outsiders, although clearly all had been poisoned as they fell. He was limping badly, blood snaking down one leg. Marley seemed fine, but one of the imps—Moe, she thought—was on the ground and not moving.

  She stared at Bain, struggling to his feet as Hell licked the slash in his side. Connor was on his knees next to Bain, head down, breathing heavily. His hands fell away from the already sealed wound in the dog’s side. The sound of running feet sent her gaze swinging back to where they had left Zach. A lone Outsider was racing toward him, moonlight glinting off a knife. Carey sped toward them, palming shuriken she already knew would be too late. A motorcycle roared, and Carey looked over to see Leigh Ann on Peter’s bike, bent over and headed toward Zach’s long form stretched behind the pile of bricks. As she swerved to cut off the Outsider, he leaped in front of her, the bike sliding out from under her to smash into the wall in a scream of chrome and metal. The Outsider raised his knife and turned to the fallen girl. He stumbled, stared for a moment at the arrow piercing his chest, and fell as Anton lowered his crossbow and finished climbing over the side of the bridge.

  Peter ignored blood seeping from a slash across one shoulder as he guided C
laire to a seat on a pile of bricks. She was holding one arm stiffly against her side, a spelled shuriken still ready in her good hand. There was no sign of Feyala, but since the bridge hadn’t exploded, Carey was reasonably sure she and Anton had managed to disarm the explosives.

  In the sudden stillness, Hell’s ululating wail sounded again, followed by blades clashing. They all turned to the swordsmen still battling along the bridge edge.

  Although Jeffers’ sword met every move of the blue blade, Carey could tell he was tiring. Both men were bleeding in several places, but Narcorial still seemed an extension of his beautiful blade, his movements a deadly and inhumanly graceful dance as the swords struck and clashed. The only sign that he felt the effort was in the way his words came in gasps. “We were…brothers…for untold ages. I don’t want…your existence…ended. Make another…Book…for angels…and you can go…back to your humans.”

  “Can’t.” Jeffers’ chest was heaving. “Wouldn’t if I could. Life…Brother. You worry about Creation. I worry about Life.”

  “Then…no choice…” Narcorial’s gentle, implacable voice held a universe of sorrow. “I’ll have to…end you. Take…pivot point. Null City…will fall.”

  Jeffers raised his voice. “Parker!”

  “Sir?”

  “How many…did you get?”

  She froze as rusty connections flared to life. “Nooooo!” It was a scream of comprehension and denial.

  “Creation happens anyway…” His eyes never left his opponent, but she knew his grin was for her. “Life is what matters.” With a huge two-handed heave, his blade thrust Narcorial’s arm aside. Jeffers dropped his guard and stepped into the return thrust, his momentum driving him forward, sliding up the piercing blue-fired sword to wrap arms around his opponent.

  “No, please…” She begged, already running to the two men locked together. Jeffers raised his face again, coughing blood. She thought she heard one last word as he twisted, throwing the two men locked in a final embrace over the unprotected side of the bridge, but she couldn’t tell which man gasped it.