I stumbled across Randy Norton in the courtyard, he and his friends were passing out sleeping bags for the dozens who would be camping in the open tonight. He waved frantically, a delighted grin spanning his freckled features. “Hiya, Charlotte.”
“Hey Randy.” He positively beamed when I recalled his name, a red flush swallowing his cheeks. “Thanks for helping out.”
“No probs,” he said. “I wanted to fight in the battle, but Dad wouldn't let me.” He scowled, reminding me how young he really was, but brightened again almost instantly. “I heard you kicked Archangelo's butt.”
I shook my head. “Not completely. I'll get him next time.”
“Cool.” His gaze shifted to his group of friends, then came back to me. “Any chance of us having that soda we talked about?”
I suppressed a giggle. “Sure. Why don't we meet up tomorrow?” A surreptitious glance confirmed his friends were staring at us, jaws slack. “I'll meet you at the mess. Let's say two o'clock?”
“Um, yeah. Sure, that'd be great.” Randy's face slowly turned beetroot red, in the dim light I could see his cheeks burning.
“See you then.” I set off towards the mess, intent on grabbing something to eat. It had been hours since I'd eaten and I was starving, my stomach rumbling ominously
Nonny looked up from where she was refilling the serving platters and grinned. “You're all right?”
I nodded. “Hungry.”
“I'm not surprised. Sit down, honey, and I'll bring you something.”
“I think that's preferential treatment, Nonny,” I warned her.
Nonny agreed with a wink. “I run the mess; I can preferential anyone I want.” She trotted towards the kitchen.
“Over here, Child.” I glanced around, spying Epi at a table with a group of people I didn't recognize. Squeezing my way through the crowds, I reached the table and settled in the chair Epi held out, smiling shyly at the others. “Charlotte, these are the witches who arrived today. Gabrielle, Peter, Leonora and Hannah.”
I nodded at the four newcomers. “It's a pleasure to meet you.”
One of the women, Gabrielle spoke on behalf of the others. “It's our pleasure to meet you, Charlotte. It's an honor to meet the Nememiah's Child.” She was an attractive woman, in her mid-thirties with olive skin and sky blue eyes, a striking combination. Her dark hair was sleek and straight, cut in a short bob which fell below her ears. As she spoke her hair swung, the overhead lights catching the auburn highlights through it.
“Gabrielle has volunteered her coven to help the rebuilding process,” Epi announced.
I nodded, grateful for any help, although I had no idea what they could do. “Thank you. We need all the assistance we can get.”
“You sustained some heavy damage,” Peter agreed. He was stocky with angular features and a square jaw. His eyes were brown and he appraised me seriously. “Can you get the shields back up?”
I shrugged uncertainly. “We're doing the best we can.”
Peter turned to Epi. “With your permission, we could work on creating enchantments to protect the city while the shields are out of action.”
“Yes, that would be useful. Conal is working on the shield generators, helped by people with experience in this area, but we're dealing with a technology that is alien to us.”
“We'd be happy to help,” Gabrielle agreed. “Of course, our magic is different to yours, Epi. We will need supplies to create the necessary spells.”
“Such as?” I questioned. I didn't know these people, and whilst Epi seemed to have embraced them, I wasn't as trusting. I hadn't touched any of them, consequently I didn't have the spirits verdict to rely on.
Peter smiled, his expression open. “Our magic involves the use of herbs, moss, lichen, an assortment of barks. We brought a supply with us, those we could grab before we fled, but we'll need to visit the woods to find the other items we need.”
I studied him for a moment and Peter held my gaze, his expression still completely dispassionate. “May I shake your hand?” I asked.
Peter's brows puckered but he accepted my request, holding his hand out. I shook his hand, then each of the three women in turn. “I'll arrange an escort to take you out to the woods. They're about a mile to the north.”
Gabrielle studied me before her attention turned to Epi and she lifted one eyebrow. Epi smiled complacently. “Charlotte accesses the spirits of your ancestors through touch. One of our safeguards to ensure the people given access to the city are truly believers in our fight.”
Gabrielle looked surprised for just a moment, then she smiled. “Ah, I see. I presume we passed your test?”
I grinned. “Yes. You all checked out okay.”
“That's a relief,” Peter's eyes sparkled, “because I feel a heck of a lot safer here than I did back home.”
Chapter 16: Assistance
“Archangelo has caused nothing but trouble!” Odin was furious, his eyes blazing with anger as he confronted Alberich Bran. “He must stop these attacks which occur without permission or consultation!”
Bran stood with his fingertips steepled together, his eyes lowered. “Odin, my sincerest apologies. He is immature, as you well know, and still a youngling. We were both aware the transformation might cause some… teething problems.”
“Teething problems!” Odin turned away from Bran and paced back and forth rapidly. Behind him Hyperion and Arawn stood together, their faces displaying their disapproval. “Archangelo continues to defy us at every step! With this ridiculous attachment he has formed for the girl, he is completely out of control! Now he's gotten himself kidnapped by the Fae!”
“Odin, begging your forgiveness, but… you kidnapped the Fae woman first. The Fae can hardly be blamed for attempting to secure her freedom.”
Odin turned on the spot, his pockmarked face pinched with fury. “The Fae must be forced to join us. We cannot allow them to align with the girl!”
“Of course, of course.” Bran simpered. “I'm merely suggesting that perhaps kidnapping was not the best way to go about it.”
“Bran, you push your luck too far,” Odin warned. “You and Archangelo forget yourselves.”
“My apologies,” Bran said. He lifted his face and I was struck again by the ugly scar on his cheek, shadowed by the hood of his cloak. “Until we retrieve Archangelo, we can't be certain he hasn't attained victory. He felt certain he could breach the shields protecting the city. We will know when he is released if he succeeded, and surely his minor transgression will be forgotten if Zaen has fallen and the girl has been killed.”
For a minute Odin stared at Bran, then closed his eyes with a growl. “Yes, my friend. You're right. I hope for your sake he was successful with this folly he attempted. If he wasn't, you'll both suffer the repercussions.”
“Of course,” Bran said. I saw a flash of anger cross his face before he quickly lowered his gaze. “May I ask, have negotiations taken place to arrange the exchange?”
“They are continuing. The Fae are secretive and suspicious of us.”
“Do they have reason for suspicions? I understood it was to be a straight swap – Archangelo for the girl.”
Odin hesitated for just a split second. “No reason at all. The swap will take place as agreed. Of course, if Archangelo hadn't disobeyed us, the need for an exchange would not be necessary…”
I woke up abruptly and the vision receded as I analyzed what I'd seen. The Drâghici had no intention of handing over the Fae woman. Odin's moment of hesitation answered that question.
Plumping the pillow, I sat up against the wall. It was a relief to know the Fae still had Archangelo – whilst they held him, he couldn't report to the Drâghici about the destroyed shields. I didn't know how long that safety net would continue –as soon as Archangelo returned to Sfantu Drâghici, an attack would be immediate and devastating in the precarious state we were in.
I fumbled in the dark for the torch. After the longest day I'd endured in recent months, I needed sa
nctuary from the steady hum of activity in the courtyard and had retreated to a small room I'd found, high in the roof of the meeting hall. The silence was soothing and allowed me to think in peace, listening to the steady murmur of the spirits. They spoke with each other, their voices a comforting hum in my mind. The room was mine to all intents and purposes, I'd told nobody about its discovery and intended to continue keeping it secret. The day to day stresses of dealing with the war were taking a toll and I liked having a sanctuary to escape to.
I found the torch and flicked the switch. The glass of water and crackers I'd brought with me sat next to my watch and I checked the time. It was a little after five a.m., the sky still black before dawn's arrival.
I nibbled on a cracker, wondering if the men were still working on the generators, if they'd had any success. I got the impression it wouldn't be long before Archangelo was back in Sfantu Drâghici. The Drâghici seemed determined to recover him at all costs; although I doubted they'd hand over the Fae hostage; I was positive the Council had something up their sleeves. Odin's second of silence before he responded to Bran had spoken volumes.
“Charlotte, you should discuss this problem with Nememiah,” Mom urged. “He'll advise you.”
“He told me I had to do this on my own, Mom.”
“Yes, you must fight the war on your own. This is different. He'll advise you, if you ask him. I'm certain of it.”
I shrugged, nibbling on the cracker again before I sipped some water. I didn't believe Nememiah would help, he'd made it clear he'd contact me, not the other way around. Worrying about the shields though, what did I have to lose? I thought it over for a few minutes more, pulling the sleeping bag over my shoulders as protection against the chill in the air. I wondered how the people outside were faring – many of them had slept out in the open, beneath the enchantments Epi created. I'd seen dozens lying on the snow, huddled around bonfires to try and warm the area in the harsh winter conditions. The thought of people enduring more nights of freezing weather were enough to make up my mind. “Nememiah? Are you there?”
The voices dissipated, the spirits aware of my attempt to contact the Angel and they lapsed into silence for me to reach out. Almost a minute passed and I was beginning to think I couldn't contact him, when I heard his voice echo through my mind. “Child? Why do you contact me?”
“I need some advice.”
“This war is yours to fight,” he responded, his deep voice somber. “I cannot become involved.”
I swallowed deeply, deciding the best strategy was to launch straight into my request. “I don't want help fighting the war. I need help to get the shields working again.”
There was a long silence before he spoke again. “Surely you realized Archangelo could enter Zaen. He carries angel blood and the mark of the wing, exactly as you do.”
His response made me feel like a naughty child, who'd flunked an answer on a quiz by simply not studying hard enough. Biting back a retort, I figured honesty was the best policy. “I didn't think about it.”
“I see.”
It might have been my imagination, but I thought I heard a hint of amusement in his tone. I decided to press on. “I'm doing everything you've asked of me. I have the different groups working together. We're sharing decisions equally, working as a democracy.”
“I have been watching, child.”
Tapping my fingers impatiently against the wooden floor, I continued. “Then you know how much trouble we're in without shields.”
“I do.”
The silence stretched out interminably and I wondered if he had left, abandoning us to our fate. “Damn it, Nememiah, can you throw me a lifeline here? You helped before – when Archangelo nearly killed me, you told me the vampires could help. Don't pretend you aren't taking sides in this!”
“You dare to question my impartiality?” His voice was icy cold.
I bit my lip and worked to control my temper. “I need help, Nememiah. We can deal with everything else but I don't think we can fix the shields. Without the shields, the Drâghici are going to march in here, take over the supernatural world and impose their rule on everyone. Does that fit in with your grand scheme?” I grimaced at the last words, knowing my temper was far from under control.
“You are remarkably rude for one so young,” Nememiah scolded. “However, in this case you are correct. This was never part of my 'grand scheme' as you so eloquently put it.” He paused for another full minute before speaking again. “You may fix the shields”
“I don't know how! That's what I was hoping you would do!” Frustration had me gritting my teeth against another bout of rudeness – I had the sneaking suspicion I was already pushing my luck.
“I forget you have had no guidance in these matters. Part of your role as a spiritual Child is telekinesis. I have watched you begin to control the power in recent weeks. Use that ability to repair the shields.” I opened my mouth, ready to explain again that I didn't know how, but Nememiah sighed deeply. “I will assist you, guide the repair. But be warned, I will not always assist you. The other damage must be repaired by the people of Zaen.”
“Agreed.” I smiled in relief. “And Nememiah?”
“Yes, child?”
“Thank you.”
I unzipped the sleeping bag and stumbled out, grabbing up my boots and the coat Rowena had lent me after I'd destroyed my own when Clint was injured. Slipping on the coat and boots, I grabbed the last of the crackers and tucked them into my pocket, then strode briskly down the stairs.
The air outside was bitterly cold, despite the fires which burned brightly against the charcoal sky. I ran down laneways, through the streets until I arrived at the generators.
Thirty men were working frantically, they'd cleared away the debris and I spotted Conal, crouched beside the one generator which still functioned. He'd stripped off his shirt and a flutter of desire settled in my groin as I watched his washboard abs and tightly muscled chest, the muscle flexing as he worked. He was filthy, covered in dirt and oil, his face smeared with grease.
I stepped carefully into the area, which was lit by spotlights positioned so they highlighted the damage. I cursed Archangelo again for what he'd done when I saw the extent of disaster. Nick grinned tiredly when he saw me approaching. “Hey, Lott. Starting a fashion trend?”
I glanced down at my clothes and grinned. I'd been in such a rush, I hadn't bothered dressing and still wore my favorite pajamas – which happened to be bright yellow ones with goofy-looking cows as a motif. Combined with boots and a bright red coat, it wasn't a good look. “I don't think it'll take off.”
Conal heard my voice and straightened up to join us. “Hey, Sugar.” His smile was tired, his face revealing how fatigued he was.
My gaze lingered on his chest for a few seconds longer than necessary and I swallowed, forcing my eyes up to his. “Aren't you freezing?”
Conal grinned, unable to hide his amusement. “I've been working flat out for about twelve hours, I'm plenty warm.”
My gaze slipped unbidden to his chest again and I blushed furiously, giving myself a stern talking to. Now wasn't the time to gawk at Conal and I deliberately forced my gaze onto the generators.
Conal stepped closer. “You've seen it all before, Sugar,” he whispered huskily. “And more.”
“Not for a while,” I muttered. I forced my attention to the generators and heard Lucas chuckle, further inflaming my embarrassment. “No luck?”
Conal put his hands on his hips, shaking his head. “We're screwed. I thought if we could work out how they operate I might be able to figure it out, but we can't even remove the outside cover. I'm frightened to push too far; in case we damage the last one that's operational.”
“I might be able to help.”
Conal raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You got an engineering degree hidden away that I didn't know about?”
“No. According to Nememiah, I have the ability to fix this.”
Conal looked doubtful, but he put his fi
ngers into his mouth and whistled loudly, capturing everyone's attention. “Let's clear the area for a few minutes. Charlotte thinks she can help.”
There was an outburst of muttering and whispered asides before the men moved back, giving me free access to the shield generators. Conal and Nick stood to one side, watching curiously as I studied the twisted metal and broken parts.
“Nememiah?” With everyone watching, I had a dreadful moment where I wondered if he really would help me, or leave me standing here looking like an idiot.
“Close your eyes child.”
I immediately did as he said.
“Focus your mind on the damaged parts…”
“But they're all wrecked…” I started to protest.
“Do you want my help or not?” he snapped.
“I'm sorry.”
“Focus your mind on the damaged parts. See them in your mind's eye, twisted and broken. Use the telekinesis to lift them, placing them back into position.”
I concentrated for a few seconds, but found it impossible to memorize the parts from the brief glance I'd had. “I'm sorry, I can't remember. Can I look again?”
“Yes.”
Ignoring Conal and Nick's questioning looks, I focused on the broken parts, drawing them in my mind to ensure I had a clear picture. I turned to the working generator, memorizing how it looked. Shutting my eyes again, I created an image of the parts as I'd seen them, a pile of crushed and broken metal.
“Open your eyes now, child.”
I snapped my eyes open and saw the parts still laying on the ground, but they were shimmering with energy. The mutterings from the men had reduced to complete silence as they focused on what I was doing.
“Use your energy, allow it to flow through your arms and into your fingers, use it to lift the parts.”
I nodded briefly, too focused to do anything else in acknowledgement of Nememiah's instructions. Carefully lifting my arms, I heard gasps as numerous pieces separated themselves from the heap, then hovered a couple of feet off the ground.
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