White Star (Wolves of West Valley Book 1)

by Sarah J. Stone

  “Is she going to be all right?”

  “Odds are as good as always,” she shrugged. But she picked up something in his thoughts then that concerned her. “What is it?”

  “She…” He fought for the words to describe it so that he didn't sound crazy. “She resurrected the one bird, Laura. But there was a second one a few inches off that was complete road kill. And that one just got up and walked away.”

  “She healed two?”

  “She didn't heal two,” he said. “One had literally died, and she brought it back seconds after. Healing, sure, but I'm pretty sure it was dead. But this other one – no amount of healing could bring it back. It didn't even look like a bird anymore. She transferred life force from the flowers, I saw them shrivel. But none of that explains how a puddle of bird guts got up and walked away when she didn't even touch it; didn't even notice it. I'm pretty sure she was in my arms when it did so; she wasn't paying it any sort of attention.”

  “Huh,” Laura said, sitting back. “You realize what you're saying–”

  “Sounds beyond impossible. Beyond crazy,” Devon said. “Resurrection alone is not even possible.”

  “Except for her,” his Maestro said.

  “Sure. Fine, let's assume that. But without touching it? Without directing magic toward it? She was clearly drained. So, even if we assume resurrection is real, you can't do magic on that scale without paying attention.”

  Laura cocked her head. “Well, that doesn't make any sense. And you're sure of what you saw?”

  “Without a doubt,” he replied. “There's something else at play here. I'm telling you.”

  “You don't think she's using unnatural magic?” she put it as delicately as she could.

  “No,” Devon was firm on that. “I would have felt that; I know what it feels like. There was nothing like that. When that bird regrouped, there was almost no magic. Just this weird jolt.”

  “Jolt?” Laura asked.

  “I can't describe it,” he shook his head. He met Laura's eyes. “She really is something, isn't she?”

  Laura smiled. “She is,” she said. “They are smart to have swooped her up. Not as smart as me, though, for getting you.”

  Devon smiled. “Can I see her? Or are her Maestros going to have me arrested?”

  “I wouldn't go tonight,” Laura answered. “They likely won't leave her side. But tomorrow, you might find a quiet moment. Are you all right? No new aches or pains?”

  “I'm fine,” Devon said. “I would tell you if I wasn't.”

  “I know you would,” Laura smiled, getting up. “You're a good kid; you never give me a reason to worry. I'm going to go to the library to see if I can find any information about what you are talking about. I'll ping you if I do. You should get your homework done, though.”

  “Okay.” He was usually easy going, and this was no exception. “Sure, that's fine. I'll call you if I die.”

  “Preferably a few minutes before,” she replied as she left. She tried to smile, but she hated when he said things like that. Devon seemed to take his own mortality with a grain of salt, as if he was invincible. She knew he was not, but she was grateful that when it happened, it would likely be painless, and easy, just as Devon lived.

  Nathaniel's lecture had caught her off guard, and she replayed it in her head as she walked to the library.

  “How dare your Tiro take mine off and nearly get her killed? How have you raised him for such reckless behavior?”

  She had been confused and then defensive, trying to understand how Nathaniel could go from making love to her to screaming in less than half a day. The presence of the Queen of Jeffro surely had something to do with it – she knew they had a relationship – but his tone seemed uncalled for.

  “I'm sorry?” she had answered in confusion. “My Tiro has never–”

  “You will control him, Laura, before he gets Sienna killed,” Nathaniel had growled. “She doesn't need that in her life. She can barely live her life as it is. She doesn't need another week in the med bay and another memory of what she could do if she was only willing to kill herself.”

  She didn't envy the position Nathaniel and Desmond were in, not in the slightest. But she hoped if she were ever in that position that she would handle it with more grace and dignity. Or, at the very least, less panic and terror than Nathaniel had rained down on her.

  Did he think she didn't understand about fragile Tiros? About worrying whether it was going to be a night's sleep that separated their bond forever, rather than a noble quest? Did he think she had it easy just because Devon usually felt no pain?

  It almost made it worse in her mind, because his death would likely come without warning or without a chance to say goodbye.

  Moreover, how dare Nathaniel scream at her about inappropriate relationships, given what they had gotten into?

  She was seeing red by the time she stormed into the library. It was silent as a tomb, and she felt her footsteps were disturbing the ancient texts that surrounded her. The witches' library was stocked floor to ceiling with more information than any one person could read in one lifetime. Their library was their pride and joy, and often the place older witches ended their career. Only those elderly, wise witches worked the library floor, having access to a wealth of information.

  Today, the librarian was paging through an ancient tome, taking delicate notes. She looked up, but Laura shook her head, indicating that she didn't need help.

  Looking around at the stacks, Laura headed toward the advanced section. Although half the library was digitized in files so large that she wouldn't know where to start, some were still in old tomes.

  She didn't really know where to look when she got there. As good as she was at diplomacy, Laura never considered herself advanced at magic. Her tests had marked her in the average section when it came to the complicated tricks they had to do, and she found herself using magic less than her colleagues. To be in the advance section, with spells that were scrawled over three pages, and techniques that took an entire book to explain; she felt so out of her depth.

  She was surprised, though, to find that she wasn't alone.

  A Maestro she had seen around before lingered in the back, running her finger over the tomes, clearly looking for something specific. She was so focused on her task that she nearly ran smack into Laura.

  “Oops,” Christa said, turning to her. “Sorry…Oh, hi!”

  “Hi,” Laura said, extending her hand. “Christa, right? You're a pilot?”

  “I am,” Christa smiled. “And you are the magnificent Devon's Maestro, yes? He excels in the simulations.”

  “He’d better,” Laura said with a smile. “I expect him to start driving me around next year.”

  “He'll be ready,” Christa said. “Sorry I bumped into you, my mind is elsewhere.”

  “What are you looking for?” Laura asked. “Not that I can be much help. I'm not often in this section.”

  “Neither am I,” Christa answered. “I'm looking for books on the theory of resurrection or maybe advanced healing.”

  Laura froze. “Any particular reason?”

  “Uh…” Christa guarded her answer. “Just a theory. You?”

  “Same,” Laura answered. “Exact same.”

  The two women locked eyes, and then Christa sighed.

  “I'm trying to figure out if the Queen of Jeffro is dead. Resurrected, to be exact. Please don't tell anyone. That would be heresy, I think.”

  “Ah,” Laura answered. “The palace explosion and the Ronan reappearance. Of course. It all makes sense. Or, rather, it doesn't.”

  “Exactly,” Christa said. “What's your reasoning?”

  Laura decided she could trust Christa, or at least risk sounding crazy without judgment.

  “My Tiro thinks he saw a resurrection today – one without touch. I'm trying to find an explanation.”

  “Are you talking about Sienna and the birds?” Christa asked, and
Laura looked surprised. “Desmond was my Maestro,” the older woman explained. “We're still close.”

  “Oh,” Laura answered. “In which case, maybe we could help each other?”

  “Of course,” Christa smiled. “Why don't you start on that end, and just holler if you find anything?”

  “Not sure the librarian would like that,” Laura grinned as she moved down the stacks. “But I'm all for breaking the rules.”

  Chapter 16

  “How are you?” Mariah took a seat beside Desmond, startling him. He had his eyes closed, sitting by Sienna's bedside, but he had told himself that he wasn't sleeping. The fact that he jerked when she sat down and that he hadn't sensed her were proof that he probably was.

  His face softened as she pulled her chair up closer to his side. Touch was so much more important to her since she had lost her sight. She reached for his arm and laid her head on his shoulder more often. Perhaps it was a moment of vulnerability, or perhaps it was replacing her lost sight, but either way, he didn't mind. They were alone in Sienna's med bay room, except for his Tiro, who was fast asleep.

  She had seized so many times in the first three nights that Tara had almost given up. Desmond had eventually overridden Nathaniel's choice of only chemicals for a natural medicine that would stop them, just for a ray of hope. This was not quite what they were used to.

  “She's been out for hours, but she needs it,” Desmond said softly, and Mariah smiled.

  “I know. I didn't ask about her, although I am always glad to hear of news. I asked how you were. It's late, you shouldn't be on duty.”

  “Nathaniel needed to sleep,” Desmond replied. “He can't run on nothing all day and all night. He teaches every course, spends every waking moment trying to work on what happened with Jeffro, and then sits here until he can't anymore. Thank Creator for Eliza's distraction to force him to spend time with her, or he would never stop.”

  “I don't think a Maestro has ever been glad of his former Tiro being taken to bed,” Mariah snorted. “But in this case, I agree.”

  “Me too,” Desmond squeezed his hand. “I won't sit here all night, but I like to be close just in case.”

  “This time is different, eh?” Tara answered, and Desmond winced.

  “Yes,” he answered. “It's certainty been a closer call for longer. The Jurors have removed her from two mission bids we had already, and I'm sure next week will be the same. The only thing that keeps us from being inactive is a medical exemption. Otherwise, we would lose our status.”

  “You're doing the right thing,” Mariah said, laying her head on his shoulder. “And you know that if there was ever a quest you needed to go on, I would stay with her.”

  “I know,” he said as he stroked her hair. “I know. I am so grateful for you, Mariah. You have always been here for me.”

  “How is Dorian coping with a return to the world fifteen years later?” she asked, trying to get a smile out of him. “Has he learned the new updates to the tablets yet? Or is he still working on the old system?”

  “It's jarring,” Desmond answered. “I feel like I am explaining something new to him every day. It's almost as if the roles are reversed. But I have to admit, of all the times for him to come back and guide me this is probably a good one.”

  “I still feel like that,” Mariah said with a smile. “Even though we are the old, wise Maestros, we need help from time to time.”

  “Well, he gave Nathaniel a meter of discipline for raising his voice in the hall the other day,” Desmond said. “So there's that.”

  Mariah chuckled, enjoying their closeness and their moment alone. It was times like this that she felt the most connected to him, when they could share their joys and fears in simple sentences. Without Desmond, she knew she wouldn't have been able to regain her independence or her life after her accident. It was only because of his belief in her strength that she learned to work again.

  They were both so lost in the moment that they didn't notice the curtain slide back. Tara came through, clearly expecting Desmond and Sienna to be in the exact position she had left them an hour ago.

  She didn't expect Desmond to be cuddling like a teenager with Maestro Mariah.

  Both of them jumped three feet in the air, turning to Tara. The healer chose her words carefully.

  “I didn't realize you were busy,” she said.

  Desmond cleared his throat. “Are you just doing a vital check?” he asked. “She seems stable.”

  “I could do a vital check a lot easier from my station if you'd let me use magic,” Tara answered. Desmond cocked his head, annoyed.

  “We've been over this,” he said. “It's late, Tara, and you know our wishes.”

  “That I do,” she answered, looking between Desmond and Mariah again. Neither of them could say anything without causing guilt, and so they said nothing, hoping for the awkwardness of the moment to be over. Tara eventually tore her gaze away, and leaned over to Sienna, putting a hand on her wrist.

  “Isn't Nathaniel the night contact?” she asked Desmond as she looked at her watch.

  “He is, normally,” Desmond answered, “but I sent him to get some rest.”

  “He'd rest better if the Queen of Jeffro wasn't in his bed,” Tara answered.

  Desmond growled at that. “I'm sorry?”

  “You heard me,” Tara spun around. “Clearly, I see where he gets it.”

  Desmond held her gaze.

  “Do you have something to say, Tara? Because it was my impression that you chose a medic's path, not a Juror's path.”

  “I could have…” she started, her blood boiling. She hated that they came in here and threatened her medical opinion, and dismissed it for their alternative and, in her opinion, dangerous theories. It was no question in her mind why she saw Sienna get worse year after year. Yes, the acridid gene should have killed her by now. But on a scale of progression, Tara was torn between reporting them for neglect or not.

  Sienna suddenly gasped as if she had to get every bit of oxygen into her lungs. Everyone turned their attention toward her as the monitors started to beep. Her oxygen stats fell, and her eyes flew open as she fought for breath.

  “Creator,” Tara swore as she moved quickly, trying to find the problem. She hit the alarm, and two other healers rushed in, assessing the damage.

  “What's happening?” Desmond's calm demeanor slipped away as he stood up. Mariah pushed her chair back, and it clattered to the floor, sensing the panic in the room. “Tara. Tara!”

  “Shut up a second!” Tara snapped at him, her eyes on fire. “I'm trying to figure it out, but her acridid genes block half our systems. Yasmine?”

  The other healer knew that she wasn't allowed to use magic as an assessment, but it was against the clock. She took Tara's nod as permission and put her hands on Sienna's chest, flooding her system with sensing magic.

  Sienna choked, and the color slipped from her face as she fought for breath.

  The red magic created a diagram of her body, and Tara could see the issue right away. “Her lung collapsed,” she said, and the other healers worked in tandem, grabbing the necessary supplies. “Move fast, ladies.”

  “Sienna!” Desmond moved at lightning speed to roll her over. She threw up on the floor, the fact made much more miserable by barely being able to breathe. “Tara, you were not to use that magic on her.” He was angry, and the whole room knew it.

  “And if I didn't, she would have died,” Tara snapped, but Desmond was past reason.

  “You directly disobeyed an order that I, as a senior Maestro, gave you,” he snapped back at her. His rage grew by the fact that his Tiro fought for air and convulsed in pain. “Remove yourself from this case. Now.”

  “Desmond…” Mariah put a hand on his shoulder.

  “No,” he gritted his teeth. “She put her in danger when I–”

  “Desmond, let GO!” Tara wrenched Sienna out of his grip, recognizing the signs of aspiration
. “Suction, now.”

  “We can't suction and inflate!” Yasmine protested, but Tara shook her head.

  “You're going to have to,” she said, glancing at the failing stats. “You have one minute to do both or we're going to lose her.”

  “She would not be aspirating if you didn't use magic on her!” Desmond snapped.

  Mariah wrapped her hands around his waist, pulling him back. “Desmond, come here,” she said. “Stay back. Let them work. Please, let them work.”

  Her touch was just enough to get him to drop his voice, but she could feel him shaking in anger. He had seen the horrors of war and had witnessed death, destruction, and gore. But nothing compared to watching his Tiro fight for life in front of him.

  ‘Sienna,’ he reached for her through his bond, grasping Mariah's hand for strength. ‘Stay with me, little one. Stay with me.’

  “Desmond!” Wherever Nathaniel had been, he had felt the disturbance in the magic. He rushed into the curtained room, his shirt undone. The lipstick stain on his collarbone was broadly visible, and his cheeks were flushed.

  Sienna's vitals flatlined, and Nathaniel howled, dreading that sound.

  “No!” he screamed out, and Mariah grabbed him as well. She was small, and she couldn't hold the two of them back with sheer force. It was only the bond, the love between them as a family that kept them back. “NO!”

  “Gavoline, 400 mg,” Tara said, and Yasmine opened the cart. “Push it hard, and if that doesn't work…”

  ‘Sienna,’ Nathaniel searched for the bond that he gotten used to.

  “Not like this,” Nathaniel spoke out loud. “Not like this, please.”

  “600 mg,” Tara said, watching the monitor

  “But that will–” Yasmine said, and Tara cut her off.

  “She'll be dead either way then.”

  Nathaniel felt his knees go weak, and he squeezed Mariah's hand.

  The second needle didn't make a difference. Tara took a deep breath.

  “I can't give her anymore,” Tara said. “It won't make a difference.”