Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle

by Mercedes Lackey

  Then the flash of borrowed memories shared with Sera hit her, and she knew what he’d done to have some bad, bad karma. Because not all of the people he’d turned to smoking ash in the rubble of that Project of his had been guilty of anything other than working for the wrong people. Maybe not even most of them. And a good number of them had been victims, just as he was.

  “Frickin’ karma,” she said bitterly. She didn’t know those people. She knew him. She didn’t want to lose him, not only for herself, but for Sera. Dear god, for Sera . . .

  “Still keepin’ my bench warm, Blue?” John had slipped in dead quiet, as always. He was way too good at that for Bella to be completely comfortable with it.

  “Beats you setting fire to it.” She sighed, felt her throat try to close, and blinked back tears, fiercely. “Here. These will keep you on your feet and fully active for as long as you have left. That’s what I’ve got. That’s all I’ve got.” She handed him the bag. No point in making a soft sell.

  He shook the bag, then stuffed it into a cargo pocket on his pants. “That’s all she wrote? I’m really buying the farm, no ifs, ands, or buts?”

  “You’re unique.”

  “My mother said the same thing.” He grinned. “She also said I was an incorrigible brat an’ a pain in the ass.”

  She wasn’t a real doctor. And every second she wasted trying to be nice was a second he didn’t have. “I’m cutting to the chase, Johnny. Your powers are killing you. You can stretch things out longer by not using them, but . . .”

  “But you an’ I both know that I won’t stop. That I can’t stop so long as America, the world, an’ my new family have enemies out there. Right? So long as the Thulians are looking to make this a world of ashes.”

  “Nothing short of a miracle is gonna help you now, and nobody’s handing me a halo.”

  He nodded, sitting there silently for a long time. Children were playing in the park. Swinging on swing sets, wrestling and chasing each other, and just generally being little kids, happy kids. He spotted one pair playing with an action figure, clad in black and red, a CCCP uniform. He vaguely recognized the likeness it held, smiling. He thought it might be Perun. “Then it’s settled.” John stood up, hooking his thumbs into the belt of his pants.

  She held out a hand. “Johnny—look, Echo isn’t everything. Maybe Vickie can dig up some magic or—”

  He cut her off, without any hardness in his voice. “Echo’s the best. An’ I know y’already went to Vickie. If she couldn’t find it on her first run, it probably isn’t there; she’s thorough like that.” He sighed, then grinned at her as he turned to leave. “You’re a good friend, Comrade Kiddo. I’ll see ya around.”

  And then he was gone.

  * * *

  She knew, of course. She had known from the moment that Jadwiga told him. And she realized that if only she had thought about it, she should have known before that. Her heart, and being unable to see his futures, had hidden the truth from her. She grieved for him, for the pain he must endure—for his own fears—but not for him. She knew, how not, that death was just a transition. But he . . . he did not.

  He needed her. He would find her. This time, in her sanctuary, not his, not the Suntrust Tower where she could be seen, but a little stone bench in the quiet shelter of some trees that were as old as the city was, at the edge of a tiny cemetery. People often mistook her, those that could see her, for a statue. He needed her; thus, he would find her.

  And he did.

  He was surprised to see her when he wandered onto the edge of the cemetery. His surprise passed quickly, and he slowly made his way over to her. The same reserve and practiced calm as he had evidenced for Bella, all of it stretched over a writhing mass of fear and despair. He was scared, and she could feel every nuance of it.

  “Evenin’, Sera. The folk ’round here started dancing yet?”

  She looked at him in puzzlement for a moment, until her mind sorted through all the possible meanings and settled on the most likely for him. “No one has played the proper music,” she replied, moving over on the bench in unspoken invitation, and making herself look as human as possible. The strange and bitter irony of this meeting being in a graveyard was not lost on her.

  “What’s a gal like you doin’ in a joint like this, at this hour?”

  “It is quiet. I can rest. I am not entirely immaterial. I need not eat, drink or sleep, but I do need rest. I can rest here.”

  He chuckled; there was darkness behind his mirth. “You an’ a lotta other folks. Got time for talking?”

  She regarded him, unblinking. “I would make time, even if I had it not, John.”

  “Yeah, I suppose you could.” He rubbed his arms against the cold and sat down next to a headstone in front of her. “Weird how things turn out, isn’t it?”

  “I hope you are not contemplating destiny, John. There is no such thing. The future is mutable.” She bit her lip. “Futures. I see many, many. I have told you; it is what I do.”

  “Naw, nothing like that. I just meant like the location, and whatnot. Angel in a church graveyard. And me, here, talkin’ with ya. Just weird how everything plays out, eventually. Irony is a cast-iron bitch.” He steepled his fingers, resting his elbows on his knees. “So, do y’know why I’m here to talk to you?”

  She closed her eyes for a moment as his pain washed over her. She already knew the answer to the question she would have asked: May I heal him? The answer to that was It is not permitted. She did not know why—but that she would obey was the difference between a Sibling and a Fallen. She would obey, because she had trust. But this . . . this hurt. Hurt that she could not save him this. “Yes. But you must also tell me. There are reasons for this.”

  “Then I’ll just say it. I’m dying. It’s because of how my powers work; my ‘natural’ ones, that is. And there’s nothing that anyone knows to do about it.” He visibly shook. It was the first time she’d seen him like this; he’d been consumed with anger, regret, purpose, and duty for so long. But this was fear, naked and unadulterated. “I think I’m okay with it. What do you think?”

  “I think . . . you are afraid.” A tear formed at the corner of her eye, and fell. “I think . . . I am sorry for your fear, and grieving with you. And I think . . . I think this is too much pain for you to bear alone.” He remained silent and another tear slid down her cheek. Her voice remained steady; she didn’t think he realized she was weeping for him. But she could scarcely believe how little time had passed—and how much had changed—between this meeting and the last. Tears instead of smiles, grief and fear instead of laughter. “What will you do now?”

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” He sat there, staring at his hands for several long moments. “I figure there’s only one thing I can do: keep fighting. People need for me to be there. The CCCP, my neighborhood, everyone. There’s nothing that I can do ’bout dying. But I can make my time here count for something. I can make the Thulians pay dearly for my life, if that’s what it takes to keep them from winning.”

  His answer was unexpected, and not unexpected. It would not have been out of the question for him to say he was going away somewhere, for him to “crawl off to a lonely place to die.” It could have been one of his futures . . . in fact now that he had said what he had said, she could see it, even as that future closed off; see him wandering somewhere cold and snow-clad, lying down, and never getting up again. There were many of his futures that had ended that way. More of them than she had any notion of. Perhaps if she had known, she would already have given up, because so few led to this moment . . . and only this moment gave way to the Great Blank spot, on the other side of which was hope.

  But he had changed. Changed profoundly. This was merely the signal point of that change.

  Tears continued to follow one another; she could not stop them, and did not want to. She had wept for humans before, but this was different. John was—so much to her. Things had progressed between them far, far past the love of mere friends. The
re was no one she was emotionally closer to, not even Bella. The seraphs had emotions, of course, but they were nothing so immediate. Tentatively, she reached out to him, stopping just short of touching him. “John?” she faltered.

  “Yes, Sera?” There was pain in his voice, but he was able to bring himself to look at her.

  How did humans bear such pain? “How can I help you?” She faltered again. “It is not permitted me to heal you. I wish that it was. But . . . you are my . . . friend. Tell me how I may help you?”

  He thought for a moment. “Don’t suppose y’could turn time back about a decade, could ya?”

  She shook her head, and a tear splashed on her hand. “If I could . . . The past cannot be changed, only the futures.” She paused. “I am only permitted to do small—very, very small—things. Greater things require a miracle, and for a miracle, one must sacrifice something equally miraculous.” She sighed. “That is . . . the only loophole in the Law of Free Will.”

  And I would sacrifice anything if I knew it would help you.

  “S’alright. I wasn’t holding out too much hope for turning back the clock.” He leaned forward, rubbing the back of his head. She could see past his outer self; see the drugs coursing through his veins, helping to keep him conscious and able. He was tired, spent. But he was still continuing forward; he’d set his mind to a course of action, and he would not be deterred.

  “I can grant you a little more strength.”

  “I wouldn’t turn ya down for it. There are bad guys that need killing, still.” He removed the glove off of his hand, the one with the Ouroboros tattoo, and held it out for her. He’d lost his aversion to contact with her what seemed like so long ago, with their first kiss, along with his unwillingness to look at her for more than a moment.

  She touched the back of his hand with a careful finger, and allowed the strength and Grace to flow from her into him. And if other things came with it . . . so be it. She would not hide that she cared deeply for him.

  He sighed, and some of the color returned to his face. He seemed stronger, less drawn, more substantial. “I suppose I just need ya to keep being there. For the neighborhood, for the CCCP. For me.” He looked at her solemnly. “It’s gonna get a lot worse before it gets any better, y’know. For everyone.”

  He had no idea how much worse. She sought for permission, and found it. “There are very, very few futures in which . . . it does become better, John. Most end in a very bad place. So bad that even the Infinite, which does not interfere, has placed me here to do what I may. So yes. I know.”

  John shook his head. “I don’t need to hear that, Sera. Really an’ truly.”

  She tilted her head to the side in that birdlike way she had. “You are thinking. You know I cannot see your thoughts unless you allow it. What are you thinking?”

  He frowned, his brows knitting together. “It’s not exactly all that easy to put into words, now that y’ask.” He was quiet for several moments, collecting his thoughts. “It’s kinda like this, I figure it. From when I was young, my old man had always told me that just ’cause I was me, if I put my mind to it, I was a cut above the rest. An’ that I had to strive to make sure I made the most of the potential I had, that anybody had. So long as y’put your mind to it, you couldn’t be stopped. That’s what he thought.” John’s eyes scanned the ground as he nudged some leaves out of the way with his boot. “That got reinforced big time when I was in the Rangers, then Delta. I literally was one of the best out there, for what I did. Cultivatin’ a ‘never say die’ attitude was a big part of being able to make it and keep up with everyone else. It’s as much a part of me as anything, now.”

  She could not “read” him as she could read others. But she knew him now, perhaps better than anyone else but Bella. Perhaps better than Bella. “There is much you are not saying.”

  He flashed a smile. “You usin’ your voodoo on me, Sera?” There was something different in his voice when he said her name, this time. Something unguarded that was familiar to her, but she couldn’t immediately recognize.

  “You know I cannot unless you allow it.” She regarded him gravely. “And I will go only so far as you allow without reservation. No . . . this is only . . . knowing you.”

  “Well, bein’ brought up like that, having that indomitable, unstoppable attitude ingrained in me . . . it’s makin’ all of this really hard. I’ve been taught that with the proper application of force, you can get through anything. Obstacles are only things I haven’t torn through yet, that sorta thing. This is one problem that I have that I can’t just will myself through. I’m scared shitless, actually, because even though I know what I’m gonna do, I just don’t know if I can.”

  She ached for him; her heart cried out for him. “No one ever does.”

  “The worst thing in the world for me is to let my friends down. I can’t let myself do that. I need to keep going.” There was a lot of pain in his voice, now. He was being extremely open with her; it was different from just allowing her to read his memories. This was willful, open admittance of his worst fears.

  She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. “John, if you fear what comes beyond . . . John, do you believe in me? Believe, at last, that I am what I am?” At least that fear she could take from him.

  He grinned lopsidedly, again. That grin. Such a very characteristic and personal trait that he possessed. “Y’convinced me of that a while ago, Sera. No, it’s just I’m afraid of losing. Lettin’ people that depend on me down . . . an’ losing people.”

  “No one would ever think that of you,” she replied forcefully. “Not that you willfully let them down. This was not something you wanted nor planned. This just . . . happened. And if you fear that others will turn from you . . .” She swallowed. There was a strange and painful lump in her throat that she had never had before. She blinked back more tears. “I will never leave you. I will never desert you. I will . . .” She could not continue, strangely. Words deserted her. She looked up into his eyes, pleading with him to understand. Their gazes met, and she felt a sudden sense of shock. There was something unspoken and momentous there. She went very still, waiting. She did not know for what, she only knew it would change everything, and that it was something only he could say.

  John was looking directly at her, now. And what he saw was both the “human” form she sometimes adopted around him to put him at his ease, and something he had only glimpsed in the briefest of moments, never for long. The seraphim, a creature all fire and spirit, a slender thing of light with wings of fire and glowing, bottomless eyes full of clear, pure power that looked past the surface of everything and into infinity. And those eyes were riveted on his, reflecting his pain and fear. And in those eyes, he saw a pain that mirrored his own that was all hers.

  He spoke slowly, measuring his words and letting them roll around in his mouth. “I’m here for you, too, Angel. For every moment I have left. If you’ll have me, Sera.”

  For a moment, understanding deserted her. If she would have him? What—

  And then, with a shock as great as the moment she had immersed herself into this world and become incarnate, she understood. He was offering himself. To her. That was what she had seen, and not recognized until this moment. He loved her, loved her as a human and mortal man, loved her as if she was as human and mortal as he. And she knew how much that cost him, how hard it had been to open himself again, to permit himself to care, and to love. And more. To admit it. Yes, they had been kissing, touching, but until now she had not considered it as anything nearly as deep as what he had just offered. Eros, without deeper commitment, at least on his part. Something he had needed, as part of the way to break down the walls between him and the rest of the world. This was so much more. This was all of him, given with the knowledge and fear of possible rejection, to her. Sacrifice on his part, of everything that had kept him apart from another, for so many long years. Now, at the last, he had bid to open himself, rather than close himself away, fighting his own instincts to do
so.

  “Oh . . . my love . . .” she whispered, still reeling from the impact of it. And that was when she understood, at last, what had been in her own heart. He loved her. And she, she loved him.

  The seraphim were the embodiment of the love of the Infinite for all of creation, and reflected back that love to the Infinite. It was a boundless love and yet . . . yet it was to this very human love as the countless memories of taste and touch were to actually tasting, actually touching. The love of the seraphim was more and yet . . . somehow less. It had no immediacy. It was less real for that.

  She could not breathe for joy. “My dearest, my beloved—”

  John didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned close, pulling her hand into his hands. He rested his brow on hers, sighing in relief. He was still very tired, but she could see that she had responded in the way that he had hoped.

  She was swimming in a sea of very human emotions, experiencing them for the first time directly. There was shock, the most incredible elation, wonder that such a thing could happen to her, such a gift be given for them to share. The question Is this permitted? was answered immediately with Love is always permitted which only doubled her joy.

  And then came grief. This amazing, wondrous miracle that had grown between them was a flower that was, all too quickly, going to be cut and wither. His last days would be spent in terrible pain. She and Bella could ease that to some extent, but not altogether, and it would be worse at the end.

  But of all things, the worst was this. A soul went to the afterlife it expected and believed in, and John Murdock, for all that he professed belief in her, truly expected only oblivion. If he died and sealed himself in a sort of self-created Sheol of nothingness, he would never win free again.

  That was unacceptable. For both their sakes she must help him in ways he could not even imagine at this moment. Ways that she could hardly imagine herself.

  “I will help you, beloved. In everything.” She took the hand he had given her and held it to her wet cheek. “Whatever I have shall be yours.” She did not know what else to do, but he did. He took her in his arms, and bent his head; she raised her face to his, and they kissed, and for as long as that kiss lasted, there was nothing else that mattered.