He was afraid to look at her, afraid he’d give in. “Okay,” Jason said, kicking fallen branches out of the way. They were coming up on the police checkpoint at the entrance to the mines. “I believe that you’re sorry you gave me to Barber.”
“I guess . . . he hurt you?” She shook ice from her curls, blinked it from her eyelashes.
Not as much as you did, Jason thought. It was his own fault. It wasn’t like he’d walked into it blind. “I’m okay.”
Two EMS corpsmen brought up a stretcher, and he carefully laid Aunt Millisandra on it. “Better stick with her, make sure she stays out,” he said to Leesha, imagining what kind of chaos she’d create in the mines. “I’ll go do another sweep.”
But Leesha wasn’t going to let it go. She sidestepped into his path. “If you believe I had no choice, what is it, then?” When he didn’t say anything, she persisted. “What?”
“I thought you actually liked me. I didn’t realize it was all a setup.” Pathetic.
She grabbed his hand, gripped it tight in both of hers, like she never meant to let go. “I do like you. Jason, please, you’ve got to believe me. I . . .” “I don’t have to do anything. And I don’t believe you. Not anymore.” Gently, he extricated his hand from hers. And walked away.
Chapter Thirty
Agreeing to Disagree
Jessamine Longbranch was tired of the privations of war.
She missed her palace on the banks of the Thames: the gardens layered in white roses, the servants who waited on her hand and foot, the more civilized intrigue that went on under the guise of wizard politics.
Shivering, she pulled her jacket close around her shoulders and pushed away her plate of shrimp. She was alone in her pavilion at three in the morning.
The problem with laying siege to a fortress was that the besiegers were as trapped as the besieged. It might be amusing to play army for a day or two, but this was excessive.
She couldn’t shake the nagging sense that they’d been cheated. Where were the Anaweir citizens of Trinity? Why weren’t they bursting through the Weirwall to be snatched up by the waiting wizards? Where was the panic in the streets? Just what this siege needed to end the impasse. Though it was Wylie’s idea, she’d thought it would work.
Leaning forward in her chair, she poured herself another glass of wine. Then nearly spilled it when someone said, “Hey.”
She whipped around, knowing it was already too late to defend herself.
“Relax,” Jason Haley said, raising his hands to show that he was as unarmed as a wizard can be. “If I’d come to kill you, you’d already be dead.”
“Then why are you here?” Jess demanded, still rattled. “And how did you get in?”
He ignored her question and dropped into the chair opposite her. “I need safe passage out of the sanctuary.”
Jess blinked at him in surprise. “What? Why?”
“McCauley’s insane,” Haley said bluntly. “He’s going to get us all killed.”
“Ah.” Jess settled more deeply into her chair. Intrigue and dissension. Perhaps she wouldn’t call the guards just yet. “So this weapon he’s talking about isn’t so powerful after all?”
Haley shook his head impatiently. “Wrong. It’s incredibly powerful. That’s the problem.”
“What do you mean?” Jess asked, growing impatient with the trickling pace of the story. The boy seemed jittery. He flinched at every sound and drummed his fingers on his thigh, tapping out an erratic rhythm.
“They’re all dead,” he said finally, looking up at her, then away. “The Anaweir.”
“What?” Jess stared at him, thinking she must have misunderstood. From the look on his face, she hadn’t. “How did that happen?”
“It was an accident.” Haley stared off into space, a muscle in his jaw working. “He was experimenting with the Dragonheart.”
“You’re saying McCauley killed off the entire Anaweir population of the town?”
Haley nodded, taking a deep breath. “There are a few in the hands of the healers, but even if they survive, I don’t think ...anyway. It was a disaster.” He scrubbed a hand through his ragged hair.
Jessamine scanned his face. Either the boy was a damned good liar, or he was telling the truth. “Becka Swift? Those boys who came to Raven’s Ghyll?”
He nodded, looking down at the ground.
Jess couldn’t help admiring the strategy, even while it made her task more difficult. “How convenient. Now McCauley doesn’t have to deal with them.”
From Haley’s lack of response, Jess assumed he’d been thinking the same thing, even if he wouldn’t say it.
“Well,” she said. “Poor Jackson must feel a bit betrayed.”
“I don’t know what he thinks. People are afraid to say much. Now McCauley sorta kinda knows how to use it, but that’s not good enough when it could destroy all of northern Ohio and Indiana. But he doesn’t care. Ever since—well— what happened, he’s determined to make it work. You know, to make the sacrifice worth it.”
McCauley had seemed arrogant and self-important last time she’d seen him.
“And you don’t want to be a martyr?” Of course he didn’t. Whatever she thought about Jason Haley, he wasn’t a fool.
“I don’t want to throw my life away for nothing. I’m going to try and end this.”
Jess raised an eyebrow. “You’re going up against McCauley? Isn’t that a bit of a . . . mismatch?”
Haley’s head snapped up and Jess smiled into her wine.
The boy was jealous, naturally. McCauley was getting all the attention. He was the star of the rebel show.
“We’ll see,” Haley said. “I don’t dare touch the Dragonheart. It’s that unstable. But I’m going to bring back somebody who can handle it without getting killed.”
Longbranch rubbed her chin. “Someone more powerful than McCauley?”
“In a way.”
“Who?”
“Madison Moss.”
Longbranch leaned in close. “The girl from Second Sister? Is she really gifted, then?”
“Not exactly. She can’t use the stone like a wizard would. But she won’t set it off.”
She studied him. “You know this for sure?”
Haley nodded.
“Where is she?” Longbranch asked.
Haley snorted. “Right. Like I’m an idiot.”
Jess sighed. “What are you proposing?”
“I’m thinking we could—you know—make a trade. If I bring you the Dragonheart, McCauley will surrender. He won’t have a choice.”
“Why would you do that?” Jess asked. “Why would you hand us the one weapon you have?” She wanted to believe it.
Haley jerked his head toward the town. “There are people in there I’d like to save. Plus, you give me D’Orsay. Like you promised.”
Hmmm. She wouldn’t mind losing D’Orsay now that his usefulness was over. They had the sefas from the hoard, disappointing as they’d turned out to be.
“How do we know you’re not going to fetch Hastings?”
“You control the outer wall,” Haley pointed out. “How would he get in without your knowing? I’m betting you’d love to catch him on his own out there.”
Ah. Yes. Indeed. “Why would Madeline . . . Madison Moss help you?” she asked delicately. “Isn’t she going out with McCauley?”
“Was,” Haley said. “They broke up. Let’s just say she’s open to new . . . possibilities.” He looked at her dead on, delightfully shameless.
Haley had an edgy kind of charisma. Teenage girls always went for the bad boys. This was looking better and better. But Jess was suspicious when things looked too good to be true.
Haley smiled, as if reading her thoughts. “Look. Whether you believe me or not, you’re not risking much. My presence or absence won’t make much difference in the end result. If I’m telling the truth and we do a deal, you’ll be saving all your skins. Trust me. Everybody dies if McCauley uses the Dragonheart.”
; “You’d betray your friends?” she asked, thinking, Why not? It was, after all, the wizardly thing to do.
“Better betrayed than dead,” Haley said. “We can negotiate amnesties once this is over.”
“Of course,” Jess said smoothly. “When do you plan to go?”
“Tonight,” Haley said. “I’ll come through the outer gate just after midnight. Make sure you have my get-out-of-jail-free card ready.”
Stone Cottage was deserted, as was usual these days. It took Jason less than an hour to gather his things and stuff them into a duffle. He wouldn’t need much.
It was a long, spooky walk through near-deserted streets to the park. Jason kept to the shadows, hoping to avoid running into anyone he knew. The Trinity safety forces had entered the mines along with the citizens, maintaining the fiction that they were evacuating because of “radiation contamination.”
A few ghost warriors patrolled the streets to prevent loot-ing. It seemed a waste of effort to Jason. The town would be toast before long, given the Roses’ proclaimed scorched-earth policy.
The hands on the clock tower scissored together as he cut across the vacant commons. The bells pealed out twelve times.
The usual motley of warriors stood guard at the Weirgate. Jason nodded briskly as he walked past, hoping to discourage conversation, but Jeremiah Brooks stepped out from their midst. “Mr. Haley, i’nt it?”
Jason raised his hand in a kind of salute. “Brooks.” He kept moving, which he hoped would convey the message that he was on an urgent mission. But the warrior left his comrades and kept pace with him.
The night breeze carried the warrior’s scent to Jason: a faint miasma of sweat, leather, old blood, and tobacco. He’d painted his face and stuck a few feathers into his hair, giving him a fierce, primitive look.
“So where you off to, then?” Brooks asked, a lilt in his voice betraying his eighteenth century Brit origins.
“Thought I’d have a look around outside,” Jason said vaguely. “See if there’s any movement along the boundary.”
“Right,” Brooks said. “Well, then.” He rubbed a finger alongside his nose. “You take care out there. The Roses— they’re right tricky.”
“Right,” Jason said. “See you.” He passed through the gate and into no-man’s-land. The skin on the back of his neck prickled. He couldn’t help wondering if Longbranch would really play, and if the plan had been communicated to the wizards on guard. Otherwise this might be a very short journey. He resisted the temptation to recheck the location of all the sefas hidden on his person.
As he approached the outer wall, he saw a half-dozen White Rose wizards collected around the wizard-wall gate. Longbranch’s house. No sign of the Red Rose.
The sentries barred his way. “Name?”
“Haley.”
Silently, they parted to allow him through.
The gateway yawned before him. Jason took a step forward, then another, expecting at any moment to be incinerated by some trap they’d forgotten to disarm. Five more steps, and he was through. He looked back. The White Rose wizards stood watching. He turned and kept walking, through the maze of wizard pavilions, past the camps of the Roses. Fifty more paces and he was well hidden in the woods. He paused a moment to brush away all the magical spyware and tethers that had been attached to him at the gate.
He moved ahead at a trot. Amazing how much stamina he had now that he’d quit smoking. He’d have to find a house, appropriate a car. He didn’t have much time.
He looked back only once more, as he topped a small rise. Trinity swam uneasily in a sea of wizard mist like a fairy castle, the turrets of Mercedes’s wall punching into the sky. Dark clouds rolled in from the lake, casting deep shadow over the town and thickening the night.
He turned, and ran faster.
Chapter Thirty-one
Armageddon on the Lake
Maybe we should’ve met at Jack’s house, Seph thought. Just now it seemed perilous to be perched on an outcropping of rock at the edge of the lake.
The wind howled, flinging foam-speckled waves against the breakwater, ripping slate shingles from the roof and sending them spiraling away into the darkness. The trees in the garden bent double under glittering skins of ice. Sleet clattered against the leaded windows of Stone Cottage, the witchy wind screamed down the chimneys, and thunder and lightning clamored over the lake. They had to speak loudly to be heard over the din.
It was worse for Seph than for anyone else. The aelf-aeling made him hypersensitive—to the conjured storm, to the lowering cloud overhead, to the legions of wizards that drew close around the walls, like darkness around a shuttered lamp. It was as if his nerves had been sandpapered to exquisite tenderness. The magical activity at the boundary was a constant flickering, just out of his field of vision. He could see all of the possibilities, and they all looked bad.
He thought of the refugees out on the Sisters, and wondered how they were faring. They must think the world was truly coming to an end.
“Wonder what the weather people are saying about this one,” he muttered.
“One can only imagine,” Nick observed dryly, from his place by the fire. “Given that it is their habit to make a run-of-the-mill thunderstorm sound like Armageddon.”
The old wizard had drawn a wool blanket around his shoulders. He and Leesha sat, a chessboard between them. Either she was really good or Nick was letting her win. He seemed to be working really hard at cheering her up, for some reason.
Jack and Ellen came banging in, shaking off the sleet and rain like dogs. And after them came Will and Fitch.
Seph looked from Will and Fitch to Jack and raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t these two supposed to be on the Sisters?”
“They were hiding out,” Jack explained. “But it’s not like they haven’t been busy.”
“They’ve been mining the no-mans-land between the walls,” Ellen said, grinning, slapping Will on the back, sending ice flying in all directions. “We’ve been providing cover.”
Will and Fitch resembled high-concept members of the French Resistance, clad in black jeans and hoodies and black knit caps, faces smudged black so as not to shine out in the dark.
“The Roses are looking for hostages, you know,” Seph said. “Not a good idea to be out there.”
“Been hostages, done that,” Fitch said, poking in the refrigerator and coming up with a bottle of juice.
Seph turned to Jack for help. “Aren’t you afraid of blowing up our own warriors? I mean, we’re out there patrolling that area.”
“The motion sensors will tell us someone’s out there,” Fitch said. “But nothing blows up until I say so.” He produced an electronic device, small as an MP3 player, and dangled it in front of Seph.
“Anyway. We’re not going into the salt mines,” Will said, thrusting his chin out belligerently, as if anxious to put the issue to bed. “So forget it.”
“You don’t have a chance against wizardry,” Seph said.
Will’s response was something like “Hmpf.”
“All right,” Seph said. “Thanks. But don’t get killed, okay?” He made a mental note to try and put them out of harm’s way when the bad stuff happened. One more thing to think about.
Mercedes had come in while they were talking. So they were all there except . . .
“Anyone seen Jason?” Jack asked, looking around in an exaggerated fashion.
“Jason?” Seph shrugged. “He’ll be here. Probably got hung up. Why?”
“He was supposed to meet us two hours ago,” Ellen said. “To go over the layout of the camp outside the walls. He didn’t show.”
There was a long, charged pause, full of throat clearings and significant looks. “What are you suggesting?” Seph said testily.
“I just think it’s strange, that’s all.” Jack thrust the tip of the poker into the flames on the hearth. Sparks spiraled up. “I mean, he’s been a loose cannon all along. Crazy to leave.”
Seph waited for someone to disagree. No
one did.
“Jason’s been frustrated, yeah, but that was because he thought he could do more good in Britain than here. He can’t still believe that.”
“So where is he?” Jack asked.
“Hey.” Ellen frowned at Jack. “Ease up.”
Silence crackled among them.
“Brooks saw him outside the perimeter just before midnight,” Jack said, propping the poker against the hearth. “He was headed for the Wizard Gate. No one’s seen him since.”
“What are you saying?” Seph asked. “That he ran out on us?”
Jack shrugged.
“He wouldn’t just leave,” Seph said flatly, feeling some of the old friction with Jack.
Without meaning to, Seph reached out with his mind, looking for the angry spark that was Jason. And did not find him anywhere within the perimeter. Could he have gone out to the Sisters? Was he somehow incapacitated so he couldn’t be detected?
If not, how would he have breached the outer perimeter and navigated the wizard lines outside?
“He wouldn’t run out on you,” Leesha said suddenly. They all turned to look at her. “He wouldn’t,” she insisted, shoving the chess board away so the pieces toppled onto the floor.
Jack gave her a look and rolled his eyes, as if to say, Consider the source.
“Nobody said that,” Seph said, looking around at the others, daring them to disagree. Jack fixed him with his blue-eyed gaze, but said nothing. Seph remembered what Ellen had told him, more than a year ago. Jack’s more wary than he used to be. Before Raven’s Ghyll.
“Perhaps we should discuss what will happen tomorrow,” Nick suggested softly.
Jack was conscious of overwhelming thirst. Fatigue dragged at his legs and arms like millstones. Or maybe it was the armor he wore. Whenever he closed his eyes, he saw the images of the men he’d killed, as if they were painted on his eyelids. So he struggled to keep his eyes open, blinking against the dust and sweat and blood caked on his face.
He was looking for his comrades. He’d somehow lost them during his last one-on-one with a wizard who wouldn’t go down. By the time he’d finished him, and yanked his sword free, he was alone among the trees, in a wood littered with bodies and watered with blood.
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