Seraph of Sorrow

by MaryJanice Davidson

  “Am I being lectured on morality from a genocidal sociopath? Say what you want about me. I have never asked for more than the safety of the people in and around this town, and those few towns that pay tribute. Dragons have their secret refuge, and they can keep it so long as I never see them. You spiders and scorpions must have your own hiding places. Why do you have to bother the rest of us? Why not forge a universe with bigger rocks to hide under, and leave the rest of us in peace?”

  Andi pulled her hand out from under Skip’s and tapped him on the back. “Skip, I should tell you that—”

  He shushed her with a wave of his hand. Glorianna’s speech was subversive and disingenuous, but the mayor had undeniable charisma.

  “Such noble talk,” Edmund replied. “ ‘A few towns that pay you tribute,’ you say? Shall we go through the list of towns and counties our kind was living peacefully in before your raiding squads came through and purged them? Shall I tell you of my own relatives’ ideas about peace, before they were slaughtered? You and I can only agree on one thing, Glorianna Seabright: We are at war. You prefer to wage it town by town, house by house, bloody stump by bloody stump. The Quadrivium’s approach was painless.”

  “And ineffective. Which is the only reason you are bothering to talk now. Can you please get on to your terms for peace, so I may reject them and pin your guts to that fancy chair?”

  “Skip, seriously—”

  He shushed Andi again, leaning in to see what Slider would say and do.

  “Very well,” Slider agreed. “We have three conditions for peace between our peoples. We’ll start with the chair, since you brought it up. Condition number one: We must continue these negotiations eye to eye.”

  With that, he leaned forward in his wheelchair, took a deep breath . . . and stood.

  Skip swallowed, stunned. Slider can walk! Granted, it was not pretty—the man shuffled to keep his balance—but there was no denying what was happening. Without sorcery or physical aid of any kind, a hobbled arachnid had regenerated and risen to face Glorianna Seabright.

  He felt a thrill as he watched his teacher, his mentor, and the only father figure who had ever kept his word, break the bonds of the beaststalkers’ most devastating curse. Andi stopped tugging at his sleeve long enough to gasp. Only Aunt Tavia, out of all present, was not surprised. Her eyes watered at the sight on the bridge.

  Glorianna did a quick calculation in her head. “I don’t think I want to hear conditions two or three.” She whipped her sword out from beneath her robes and flung it at him.

  “Frozen.” About a foot shy of his face, the sword stopped and hung in midair. “Condition number two. Your Honor will stand and listen until I am done speaking. Though I do appreciate the offer of this sword again.”

  “Skip!” The girl’s whisper was harsher.

  “Stow it, Andi! Can’t you see what he’s doing out there?”

  “Condition number three,” Slider went on as Glorianna fumed. “You and everyone else in this town will not venture beyond its borders, on missions of war or diplomacy or commerce or anything else, until you surrender your weapons and agree to disperse forever.”

  “And we will do that because . . . ?”

  “Because in this torn, cynical, aging body of mine, I have one good sorcery left.” He flipped his hair, reared back, raised a shining black shoe off the ground, and made a throwing motion in the air. “Isolated!”

  A burst of bright blue exploded in front of him, like a gallon of paint thrown on a window. The hungry shape reached up and out to form a barrier between him and the mayor. It didn’t stop at the bridge—it stretched to brighten the sky and slide down the river in both directions. Within seconds, it had thinned to near invisibility and its surface had extended beyond sight. Skip supposed from its glowing curvature that it formed an enormous dome. His eyes widened. Had Slider just done what he thought?

  Glorianna moved forward, pulled the sword out of the air where Slider had frozen it, and stepped up onto the pedestrian walkway to strike him down.

  She entered the wall of energy with her blade over her head, but came out the way she had entered, striking nothing but the empty space where she had stood before.

  She ran at him again going east, and found herself going west, without touching him.

  She threw her sword at him, and had to duck to catch her own deadly boomerang.

  “It’s the same from this side, Your Honor. You’ll find this barrier extends around and over the entire town. No one can get in. Or out. Except my friends.” He gestured back to the bushes, coughing. “And this fine Minnesota weather—I’m letting that through, too, as a gift. Everything else stops—troop reinforcements, unfortunate commuters, grocery trucks, gasoline tankers, emergency vehicles, all of it. When you put me in this wheelchair, Your Honor, you put me in a prison. Now I have put you in one. The question is, how long your town—and your rule—will last, once people start starving and freezing?”

  Glorianna stood less than three feet from this man, furious beyond words.

  “My colleagues can work out the details of your surrender at your leisure, Your Honor.” He wiped sweat from his brow, and took a deep breath. “Naturally, they’ll want to structure the arrangement so that it’s impossible for you to reconstruct later what we dismantle. It may . . . it may require . . .” He coughed again and and shook his head, as if chasing away a bad dream. “It may require certain sacrifices on your part. Starting with your life.”

  He staggered a few steps back and sat in his chair. Gray rivulets of sweat seeped into his collar. Too late, Skip recalled something Slider had told Skip earlier that evening.

  Power carries a cost.

  “No! You can’t—”

  He was going to finish with leave me, but he found a hand over his mouth and another over his shoulder. Both belonged to his aunt. Her grip on him was fragile, and he could have easily broken it. But when he saw the tears streaming down Tavia’s face, he stayed put.

  She knew, he told himself.

  “He told me you might not understand,” she whispered to him from their place in the bushes. “He wanted to tell you earlier. He was afraid you’d try to stop him. He needed all his energy for this one last gift to you.”

  “Time,” Skip recalled. “He wants me to have a bit more time.”

  She nodded. “And a bit more hope. In a few months, you’ll be almost unstoppable. And no one inside this town will be able to prevent that from happening now.”

  Skip took his aunt’s trembling hand off his shoulder and squeezed it. “He’s sacrificing for me.” And so are you, for losing him. No one’s ever done that for me before. I was always the sacrifice. Not the reason.

  “Please forgive him for not saying good-bye, Skip. He so wanted to. He knew you never had the chance with your mother or your father. Can you forgive him?”

  He squeezed her hand in reassurance. He would not doubt the man. The logic of his position was irrefutable. Skip knew that had Slider brought Skip into his confidence and told him the plan for this evening, he would have tried to stop his mentor. He may have succeeded. And it would have been the wrong thing to do.

  So Skip breathed out, relaxed, and watched the only true father he had ever known die.

  “Of course, Your Honor.” Each word came from the teacher more slowly and peacefully than the last. “I would not ask you to make a sacrifice, were I unwilling to make it myself. I leave . . . these negotiations in . . . capable hands . . .”

  He could get out no more. The chair rolled back a few inches, and his blond head slumped to one side. Then his shape changed, one last time, in defiance of his injury, shifting to a stunning blond spider with red and white facial markings. All eight eyes were dimmed.

  “Edmund!” Tavia couldn’t help herself. She leapt out of the bushes and ran to her lover’s side. Skip didn’t try to stop her.

  “Skip, listen to me!”

  Pulled by the ear until he couldn’t ignore Andi, Skip hissed into her face, “What
is it?”

  “I’ve been holding something back from you.”

  “What the fuck does that have to do with anything here?”

  “Because I can’t—I mean, look at Seabright! Look at her, Skip!”

  “Who cares about Seabright? She can’t do a damn thing! Slider’s just died; my aunt’s beside herself . . . Andi, I can’t think of anyone I want to look at less.”

  She reached out and softly touched his mind.

  There’s something you’ve never asked about me.

  Then she showed him, projecting images into his thoughts like an unwelcome movie.

  At first, he could not process what his mind was seeing. As he began to piece it together, he fell to the ground, stunned.

  “Skip, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought—”

  I can’t deal with what she just showed me. Not now. Not with Slider dying in that chair.

  He pushed the wretched girl away and walked out onto the bridge. They were in no danger. Glorianna Seabright, the unquestioned ruler of the beaststalkers, scourge of arachnid and dragon alike, immune to poison, untouchable by fire, was within striking distance. Yet they had nothing to fear from her anymore. Because of Slider’s sacrifice.

  That was all he cared about now—Edmund Slider. He preferred to be in the company of a dead and honest man than a live liar like . . .

  “Mayor Seabright!”

  The familiar voice made him stand up straight. The winged, indigo form of Jonathan Scales cruised through the air over the bridge on the western side, Glorianna’s side. He landed with a thump a few yards from the mayor, causing her to raise her sword in readiness. Right behind him landed the bright blue shape of Jennifer Scales. Skip let out an involuntary hiss.

  “Mayor, put that down!” Jonathan shook his horned head. “We have no time for fighting. If you ever trusted Elizabeth, trust me now.”

  Glorianna didn’t lower the sword, but she didn’t swing either.

  “Your enemies are coming, Glorianna. They mean to kill you.”

  “My enemies are already here, on both sides of this barrier.”

  Jonathan Scales glanced at the translucent blue wall, caught sight of Skip, Tavia, and Edmund Slider, and turned back to Glorianna. “Whatever these people have done, it is not an immediate threat. What’s coming your way is. You must prepare your defense!”

  “Our defense appears already to be in place,” Glorianna pointed out. “I can take advantage of this barrier, if I must. As long as they are outside—”

  “They are already inside!”

  From the distance, the air sirens of Winoka began to whine.

  As if in answer, there was a roar in the distant skies over Winoka, followed by a chorus of bellows, each a clap of thunder across the clear nighttime sky. Small plumes of fire appeared.

  Despite his despair, Skip felt a smile spread over his face. Mr. Slider, you won’t believe what you did! After all, how could the man have known that at the moment he was trapping beaststalkers in their own town, another enemy force would be flying over that very same town? You’ve trapped them in there together!

  “The Blaze is here,” Jonathan Scales affirmed, “to burn Winoka to the ground.”

  PART 4

  Winona Brandfire

  Children begin by loving their parents. After a time they judge them. Rarely, if ever, do they forgive them.

  —OSCAR WILDE

  CHAPTER 13

  Following Rules

  At the age of fifteen, Winona Brandfire believed everything her mother told her. So did many others: Patricia Brandfire was a natural leader, who had with her husband, Lamar, established a farm refuge for dragons in the upper Midwest. Lamar had died years ago along with several other Brandfires in a careless boating accident in the remote Boundary Waters, leaving Patricia in charge of their two school-aged children—and elder of the Brandfire clan. Rumor had it that alcohol had been involved in her husband’s accident.

  After that, the young Winona learned that ignoring rules was a surefire path to disaster. Don’t drink alcohol, her mother had told her with proud tears during the funeral . . . and so Winona never tried to sneak a beer or glass of wine. Homework before anything else, her mother had told her . . . and so Winona was a star student. Don’t date boys that are trouble, her mother had told her. Winona brought every boy she liked home, so her mother could vet her choices.

  Her older brother, Forrester, had drawn his own conclusion from his father’s death: Adults were screwups. Three years Winona’s senior, he took a more liberal view toward rules.

  “Forrester, those friends of yours are trouble! You stay away from them!”

  “Aw, Ma, they’re all right. We do our own thing.”

  “Forrester! What did I tell you about smoking cigarettes!”

  “Aw, Ma, we breathe fire! What’s the difference?!”

  “Forrester Astin Brandfire! Your pet tarantula stays out of your sister’s room!”

  “Aw, Ma, I was just showing her how small real spiders are compared to—”

  “And go tell her you’re sorry for making her bawl like that!”

  Despite these incidents, Forrester Brandfire was fiercely protective of family. Once when Winona was twelve, a bully pushed her off her bike and took it. Forrester got it back. And the next crescent moon, the bully awoke to find his own bicycle had mysteriously melted in his backyard.

  Maybe, Winona told herself, he’s a little dangerous.

  She had that thought again not long before she experienced her first morph. Her brother and mother, in dragon form, had gotten into a fight about Forrester’s most recent transgression, which had involved all-purpose grass killer, the high school football field, and a creative spelling for the name of one of his teachers.

  “Forrester, I told you you’re going nowhere! We discussed this when you insulted Mr. Pennis and vandalized school property. You’re grounded for the rest of the school year.”

  “Ma, I’m eighteen! I graduate high school in three months! You can’t ground me!”

  “Hardly. My house, my rules. You want different rules, find a different house.”

  He tried to shove past her. “I’m going with you tonight . . . oomph!”

  Patricia easily outmaneuvered him, slamming his dark reptilian head against the floor with a hindclaw. “You are not.”

  “Ma, let me up!”

  She didn’t move. In fact, her massive leg may have pressed down more firmly. “Forrester, you will stay here with your sister.”

  “Winona’s fifteen! She doesn’t need me to—ow! Okay! Geez, Ma!”

  She let him up. Winona hid a smile. The family’s dragon shapes had never made her fearful—Patricia had taught her children from birth what they would all grow to be. Winona knew these two wouldn’t really hurt each other. Dragons couldn’t, or wouldn’t, hurt anything.

  Forrester’s crimson eyes burned with humiliation. “I can’t believe you’re making me miss tonight, Ma! You’re such a bitch!”

  Without waiting for her mother to react, Winona stepped up and slapped her brother across his scaled jaw. “Don’t you talk like that to Ma!”

  He didn’t say anything. The two of them stared at each other, and then he averted his gaze. “Sorry, Win. Sorry, Ma. I’m going upstairs.”

  The two of them listened to his despondent clawsteps up the stairs. Patricia slipped a gentle wing around her daughter’s shoulders.

  “That’s my girl, Win. Your grammie would’ve been proud.”

  “Really?” Winona hoped so. She was sure Forrester wouldn’t talk to her for days.

  “You know she was a judge on the circuit bench. Always stood up for what was right. Made sure people followed the rules. You remind me of her.”

  “I do?” Winona watched law dramas with her mother all the time. The lawyers were morally compromised manipulators and the criminals were, well, criminals—but the judges were always reasonable. Always proper. Always correct.

  “Yep. Maybe you’ll be a judg
e yourself someday.”

  Winona glowed. “So where’re you going tonight, anyway? It’s almost midnight.”

  “Special night tonight, honey. Some of us are getting together to stop an invasion.”

  “An invasion!”

  “Dangerous people,” her mother confirmed. “Doing dangerous things. We can handle them, dear. You stay here with your brother. We’ll be back before dawn.”

  “Um, okay.” She let her mother kiss her good-bye with a forked tongue.

  “All right, sis, let’s go.”

  “Wha—?” She glanced up from her Seventeen magazine. “Forrester, what are you doing? We can’t go anywhere. You’re grounded! You’re supposed to watch me!”

  He gave her a look of condescending love. “Win, you’re a sweetheart. You’re gonna be something special when you grow up. And I’m going to cheer you on, all the way. But cripes, sometimes you’re dumb as a log. You honestly think you need me to stay here and watch you?”

  “Doesn’t matter. Ma said you’re supposed to.”

  “Unbelievable. You must be the only fifteen-year-old girl in creation who ever argued for a babysitter.”

  “Ma set a rule.”

  “I’ll make a deal with you: I’ll keep watching you . . . if you come.” He reached the door.

  “Don’t you dare! I’m not coming with you! If you leave, you won’t be watching me and Ma will knock you back into last year!”

  He turned. “If you don’t come, I’ll tell Ma about the D on your history midterm.”

  She knew he had her. It was her secret shame, the only thing she had not revealed to her mother. Had she meant to? She had told herself that; but it had been three weeks already. At this point, she felt it better to bear down and average the disaster up to a B, or maybe an A-, for a final spring term grade. Ma would never know any better. Unless . . .

  “Come on, sis.” His ample frame turned back to the door. “Hop on. I’ll get you there and back without a scratch. Ma will never know a thing.”