Playing with Fire (Judah Black Novels Book 4)

by E. A. Copen

  It clattered lifeless to the floor and I sank down next to it.

  “Lass!” Creven coughed and tugged on me, but I didn’t have the energy to get up. “Get up, lass!”

  Get up! The memory of Chanter’s voice in my head cut through the exhaustion and I somehow found the will to stand, leaning on Creven.

  As I rose, I caught sight of a shadow in the fire. The flame cleared a moment to reveal Seamus glaring at me with an arm protectively in front of his face. Part of his silver armor had melted and some of his unprotected hand was black from where he’d been burned. If hatred were a living, breathing thing, Seamus was its embodiment.

  The fire surged and hid him from view. When the flame danced away, all that remained was the swirling green vortex of a Way.

  Creven knelt and grabbed the sword. “Let’s go!” He pushed me toward the door.

  “What about Abe and Ed?”

  “Have to come back for them,” Creven huffed.

  We burst through the crumbling doorway and Creven shoved me forward. “Go!” he shouted before turning and walking back into the fire.

  I staggered back from the burning church, jaw dropping. What had I done?

  What was left of the roof caved and my heart jumped. My friends were still inside. I’d be damned if I was going to let them burn alive because of me. I closed my eyes and concentrated, calling up the tiny, magick shield. Then, I charged into the fire after Creven, Ed, and Abe.

  The heat took my breath away. I felt it biting at me, burning me. My shirt and pants caught fire and burned, taking my skin with it. Still, I pressed forward.

  I found Abe and knelt next to him, shielding him as best I could from the fire.

  “You stupid, stubborn woman,” he said. “I am dead anyway. Why come back for me?”

  I turned my head away from the heat to draw in a breath. “That’s what partners do!” I shouted over the roar of the flame. “You came back for me.”

  A shape moved nearby and I thought I heard someone call my name. I squinted in the direction of the noise and watched as the flame parted in front of Creven. He broke through the ashes, Ed slung over his shoulder and stopped to tug Abe up. Together, we managed to lift Abe and hold him between us.

  “Keep that shield up, lass. I’m no pyromancer, but I’ll do my best to move the worst of the fire away from us! Now, let’s go!”

  We must have looked the sight when we stumbled out the broken door of the church, all holding each other up. Once we were a safe distance from the fire, the four of us collapsed, gasping and patting flames.

  “Is he breathing?” I asked Creven of Ed.

  “Aye. And yours?”

  I turned and gave Abe a weak punch in the arm.

  “Let me die in peace,” he growled.

  “Still kicking,” I reported and leaned my head back to stare at the smoke rising against a bright, blue sky.

  Sirens sang in the distance.

  I smiled. “Looks like you’re going to make it after all, Abe.”

  Abe’s answer was a pained moan.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  The trip I took in the ambulance was is a blur. I remember feeling light, as if I would float away if they removed the straps from over me. There were words, numbers, frantic calculations and measurements tossed back and forth as monitors went on and off. I was tired, so tired, but with all the noise, I couldn’t sleep. All I wanted was for the noise to stop.

  We went over a bump and my hand flopped free of its own accord. Strong hands closed around mine. Sal’s face loomed in my vision. At least I wouldn’t be alone. “Don’t close your eyes,” he said.

  I tried to tell him how tired I was, but no sound would come out. He’d understand. I just needed a little nap. I closed my eyes.

  The next time I opened them, it was against more beeping. My eyelids fluttered open just a slit to look through the blinds on a third- or fourth-story window out into a gray afternoon. Rain tapped lightly against the window. Sal stood with his back to me, facing out the window with his arms crossed. His body language looked stressed. I couldn’t understand why.

  “Sal?” My voice was dry and cracked.

  Sal turned around. “Judah?” he rushed to my side and called, “She’s awake in here! Judah, try not to move. You were burned really bad.” He put his hands on my shoulders, trying to force me back into bed.

  “Burned?” Memories of the fire came back to me. Warren was dead. I’d kept Seamus from getting the Sword of Light. We’d won, and I was still alive. But the others… My eyes widened and I grabbed Sal’s shirt. “Ed? Abe?”

  “Both alive.” He put his hand over mine. “Abe was touch-and-go for a while. It’s not often the doctors around here get to patch up a vampire. They normally heal on their own.”

  I relaxed in the bed and stared up at the ceiling. “What day is it?”

  “You went to the church yesterday.” Sal brushed some hair out of my face. “When you came in, they thought they were going to lose you. No one can explain your miracle recovery. You’re hardly hurt at all now.”

  I smiled to myself. Marcus’ little miracle drug was responsible for that.

  “You might also be interested to know that the local leaders of the Vanguards of Humanity have been arrested and charged with three counts of arson and a whole lot of murders each.”

  “So, that’s who Dick decided to frame.” I closed my eyes.

  “I suspect they’ll find at least one of them was connected to Senator Grahm, however remotely. That’s been his plan all along, framing the senator.”

  I nodded. Framing the Vanguard would likely make things worse in the short run. The few that were in hiding might come out and cause problems, especially for the Kings.

  “So what now?” I said. “Where does everything go from here?”

  “Well, first of all, you finish healing. Whatever crap Marcus gave you to help you heal faster seems to have worn off. I’m almost back to normal, so I can help.” He leaned over and kissed me on the forehead. “Second, with everything that happened, I thought it best to delay the funerals. I thought you might want to speak. It’s supposed to be tomorrow. I think, with a little help from me, we can have you on your feet by then.”

  I nodded. “Has anyone heard anything from Seamus?”

  Sal shook his head. “But he gave you his word. He’ll be back.”

  My fingers closed around the blanket, pulling it closer. Yeah, he’d be back, and this time I knew how to hurt him. For the first time in nine months, I had a shot in the dark of taking that asshole down.

  “Hey, Sal? What happened to Espinoza? Did he make it?” I studied Sal’s face as he considered his answer.

  “As far as I know, he’s alive…somewhere. No one’s seen him. My guess? Marcus has him somewhere. Maybe he’s got him to keep Abe in line. You know how vampires are.” He shrugged. “Then again, maybe it’s just because he’s a new vampire and not very good at controlling himself. Either way, Tindall says he’s holding Espinoza’s post open until he knows one way or the other.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “A vampire cop?”

  “Come on, Judah,” Sal said with a chuckle. “The guy is already a walking cliché. Why the hell not?” Sal slipped his hand in mine. “Now, how about we get you fixed up and take you home?”

  ~

  The little white church in Paint Rock could only hold about a hundred people in the sanctuary, so the crowd spilled outside. Ed hadn’t recovered enough to climb up any ladders, so that left the rest of the pack to try and figure out how to wire speakers into the place so the people outside could hear.

  It was a sunny day, perfect weather for everyone but the vampires, but even they showed up in force. I had a feeling that, even if it had rained, there would have been a hell of a turnout.

  I twisted in my seat in the front row, glancing back at all the faces. It wasn’t just the people of Paint Rock who had come. Everyone was there. Marcus slid in to sit in the back in a deep, black suit. Patsy slid in beside h
im and she hadn’t stopped talking since. Marcus’ attention was fixed on his daughter, Kim, and Robbie who had managed to find something that wasn’t gaudy to wear for once. Yes, Robbie was actually in a suit, and he looked miserable in it.

  The Kings sat together in one of the middle rows. They were easy to spot since all of them had worn their patched jackets with the Kings’ logo on it.

  And, of course the pack was there. Everyone but Ed sat in the third row, crammed together to be there for Ed.

  The last of the viewing line neared the two coffins at the front of the church. Mara was in the one to the right. Ed had insisted she be buried in an old shirt of hers he’d kept, a long-sleeved black hoodie. Looking down at her, it had been hard to believe it was Mara. She looked so small, so frail. She wasn’t the girl I’d known. Mara was tough and strong. She’d died fighting in her own way and that’s how I would choose to remember her.

  Reed, of course, had to be buried in his cassock with his rosary in his hands. There was a part of me that wanted to leave the sword with him, too. It felt wrong to see him unarmed. In the end, I’d decided to arm him with the old, leather Bible he kept in his study. His Faith had always been his strongest weapon, after all.

  Sal put a hand on my leg. “You sure you’re up for this? You don’t have to go up there. Everyone will understand.”

  “I have to do it for them,” I said and patted his hand. “They did this for me. I can say a few words, even if what I have to say will never be thanks enough.”

  Once everyone had taken their seats, the bishop came out and began his part of the service. Valentino had gone to a lot of trouble to get someone important to come down, insisting that this was not just another church in the middle of nowhere. We were somebody, Reed was somebody, and he was going to have the best damn send-off we could manage.

  When the bishop finished his short sermon, he opened the pulpit to anyone who wanted to speak. Ed rose from the front pew on the other side of the sanctuary, leaning heavily on a four-legged cane. He winced as he climbed the few stars to stand in front of the pulpit. The microphone squealed when he pulled it down to his height.

  His hands shook as he unfolded a crumpled sheet of paper. “Mara was a lot of things,” he began, “but she never thought of herself as a good person. She didn’t think she was ever smart enough, strong enough, pretty enough… good enough.” Ed paused to swallow. “They say everyone’s got an inner battle. You never know what someone is going through. Those inner battles we fight every day made her feel weak, but she wasn’t. Mara was the strongest person I knew. She was strong because she kept going, even fighting those battles. Even when she was alone in her fight. She kept me going. She was…She was enough. I always used to say it wasn’t her that wasn’t good enough for the world, but that the rest of the world wasn’t good enough for her.”

  He broke down, sobbing with a hand over his face.

  Sal’s arm left its place around my back and he rose, trotting up the stairs to stand with Ed. He put a hand on Ed’s shoulder and squeezed. Pews creaked as more of the pack rose in tandem and made their way up to stand with Ed, placing their hands on him. When there wasn’t room, they formed a line, each placing their hands on the one in front of them. Even Mia squirmed out of my lap to go up with Hunter. By the end of it, Ed wasn’t the only one trying to overcome tears in the room.

  Ed raised his head and wiped away tears. “Mara’s journey doesn’t end here. As Gandalf said, ‘Death is just another path, one we all must take. The gray rain curtain of the world rolls back, and all turns to silver glass. Then you see it: white shores and, beyond, a green country under a swift sunrise.’ So, I guess she’s finally found a place that’s good enough.”

  Daphne lifted her hand from Ed’s back and threw her arms around her little brother. He cried in her arms a minute while the others came to take their seats. Then, the two of them walked off the dais together.

  The bishop came back out and asked if anyone else would like to say anything.

  I stood. There were dozens of people who had wanted to speak when the funerals were being organized. Few of them knew how to articulate, and had come to me with their stories and notes. It had been somehow decided that I would be the de facto speaker for everyone in Paint Rock, having known both Reed and Mara.

  The stairs creaked under me as I walked up. An expectant hush fell over the crowd when I took my place in front of the pulpit. I looked down at all the faces of the hurting, the lost. Was this what Reed saw when he stood up here to give his sermons?

  I cleared my throat. “If you’ve ever been to one of Father Reed’s sermons, you probably know the sanctuary was never this full on Sunday afternoon. But it never needed to be full. If even one person was here, and sometimes when it was empty, he still led prayers and song, just in case someone would wander in. If I had to choose one word to describe him, it would be dedication. Rare is the one among us who can live as he asks others to live, pure of heart, unwavering in his faith, and devoted to the service of others, always before himself.

  “Reed and I didn’t always see eye-to-eye, but we agreed on one thing. Love your neighbor. Whether that person is a vampire, a werewolf, an addict, or even a killer, everyone is deserving of love, even when you can’t condone their actions. He taught everyone who would listen that love and faith are the only important powers, and that forgiveness, especially forgiveness of yourself, is its own power.”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath before looking down at where Mara lay. “I’m still learning that last part. I’ve made mistakes. A lot of them. I can’t change that, but what I can do is go through every day as Reed would have, as Mara would have wanted, and choose to do a little better every day I’m alive. Nobody’s perfect, but we can all learn to be a little more perfect every day.

  “It might be a little cliché to say they’re gone but not forgotten, but every time you help a friend, you honor their memory. Every time you stand against oppression, inequality, and racism and instead choose acceptance and love, you remember what it cost, the price they paid, fighting for those very things.”

  I stopped and shuffled the papers I’d brought up with me. I’d reached the end of what I’d written, but it didn’t feel like I’d said enough. There was one more thing I wanted to say.

  I swallowed the tightness in my throat, but my voice still came out shaky. “I’m not big on religion, but you don’t have to believe to have faith. Faith is supposed to be what you hope for, something you believe in without seeing it. I have faith that the world Mara wanted so desperately, the world Reed worked so hard to create, it can exist. But we’re going to have to fight for it, tooth and nail if we have to. That’s what they would have wanted. Thank you.”

  I left my papers on the podium and wandered back down to my seat. Sal put his arm around me and squeezed. Hunter leaned into my shoulder and Mia grabbed my arm.

  Lennon’s “Imagine” and “Turn, Turn, Turn” by The Byrds played and then the bishop gave some closing remarks.

  I didn’t listen much. I kept replaying it all in my head, trying to find a rhyme or reason for why things had turned out this way. It didn’t feel fair that I got to sit there with my family while a young life had been cut short and a good man had died. Sometimes, life just isn’t fair. There isn’t always a reason. It’s human nature to look for patterns, to look for that cause-and-effect relationship. No matter how hard I looked, I couldn’t find what I was looking for.

  Gideon Reed and Tamara Speilman were buried in the small graveyard behind the old, white church under a sunny sky.

  We spent the next few weeks trying to find some way to get back to normal. Doctor’s appointments, meetings, and work took up my time again during the day. At night, nightmares plagued me. More often than not, I woke up screaming, barely remembering the dream that had driven me into that state. I added counseling once a week with Daphne. I had to work through everything with Warren somehow.

  It was almost a month after the funeral that
I went back. I parked my car in front of the building and looked up at the towering steeple. The church had sat empty since that day. As far as I knew, the local diocese was still looking for someone to fill the post.

  I got out of the car and walked to the little iron gate surrounding the cemetery, only to pause when I realized I wasn’t alone. Ed stood in front of Mara’s headstone, head bowed. It was the first time I’d seen him since the funeral. Sal said he was checking in on him, so I tried not to worry, but life didn’t feel the same without Ed in it, causing trouble.

  I walked slowly up behind him, making sure I made enough noise that he knew I was there. “Hey, Ed.”

  He turned his head. “Hey.”

  I strode up beside him and nodded to him. “I see you’re walking on your own again.”

  “Yeah.” He turned his attention forward.

  I followed his gaze to Mara’s headstone. Resting against it was a carved and polished stick of wood painted purple, twisted into a spiral at the end with a notch about halfway down. I turned my head and saw that Ed carried an exact replica of the same stick, except his was gray. “What’s that?”

  “Our wands came a few days ago. I just couldn’t make it out to give Mara hers.” Ed swallowed and then turned to face me. “Judah, I’m going away from Paint Rock for a little while. So much has happened. I feel like I need to clear my head, see the world a little, you know?”

  I nodded. “I understand, Ed. Does Sal know?”

  “Yeah, he thought it was a good idea.”

  He turned back to Mara’s grave and we stood in companionable silence for a while before I asked, “Where will you go?”

  “I’ve always wanted to see Alaska, or maybe the Yukon. There’s a lot of open space up there to run. Who knows? Maybe I’ll get good at hunting.” He cleared his throat. “I need you to do something for me while I’m gone, Judah.”

  “Anything, Ed.”

  “I don’t want to leave her wand out here where something will carry it off and the weather will ruin it.” He turned his head to smile at me. “Will you take it for me? Keep it safe? Maybe bring it out every once in a while so that maybe…we can kind of be together. I know it’s silly, but it means something to me.”