The Rise of Magicks

by Nora Roberts

  Taibhse glided, white wings spread, through trees with branches laden with snow and glinting spears of ice while Faol Ban slipped in and out of sun and shadows.

  Here, the woods pulsed with life. The heartbeats of trees slow and steady in their winter rest, the quick beat of birds on the wing, of animals small and large, the bright pulse of pixies dancing through the ice and snow.

  Light and life here, Fallon thought, unlike the dark and death in the wood on MacLeod land.

  They didn’t talk of the dead wood, of war or ghosts, of tactics or strategies, but argued books and DVDs, exchanged bits of gossip. It occurred to her they’d never just ridden through the woods, with a hunt more of an excuse to be together than a real purpose. They’d rarely talked of inconsequential things or explored each other’s thoughts on them.

  People had done just this once—maybe not with sword and bow—but they’d spent time talking about so many things that didn’t lead to life or death. Now, when war drums beat constant, taking an hour or two for only that became precious.

  She’d remember it.

  Because she would, she reached over, drew him closer, and kissed him with the owl soaring overhead, and the sun streaming onto untrampled snow. He got a better grip, added some punch to the kiss—oh yes, she’d remember it.

  Then he eased back, put his fingers to his lips.

  She caught the scent, too, and waited while he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. The boar nosed through the trees. His bad luck, Fallon supposed, that the wind carried their scent away from him.

  Duncan loosed the arrow, took it down, shot Fallon a quick grin. “That ought to pay for breakfast.”

  “And then some.”

  They took the boar to the community kitchen, where Duncan bartered for breakfast, some dry goods, and a portion of the meat. When they settled down to eat, she noticed a couple of those injured, treated, and not back to full duty sharing a meal along with a handful of recent rescues. It reminded her to go by the clinic and check on Lucy and Johnny before she left town.

  Fred popped in, a rainbow-colored cap on her explosion of red hair, her youngest on her hip.

  “Hi. Can I sit a minute?”

  Duncan patted a chair. “You want some breakfast? I’ve got a little credit left.”

  “No, thanks.” With the ease of experience, she stripped off the toddler’s coat and cap as she talked. “I just dropped the kids off at school, and Dillon at the playground. The preschoolers are building snowpeople.”

  She set Willow down, unearthed some wooden blocks from an enormous bag. “Build us a castle, cutie. Your dad made her those blocks for Christmas,” she said to Fallon. “She’s crazy for them. He and Eddie are working on the tractor—again. The alchemists are working on the corn fuel, and they think it’ll work. Anyway.”

  She blew out a breath, side-eyed to make sure Willow remained engaged with her architecture. “I had coffee with your mom, Fallon. She caught me up. I haven’t talked to Eddie yet, but anything that has to do with Allegra, he’ll want to be part of it.”

  “From what we learned, she and Petra only go there once a year, so we’ve missed them. And that’s the first substantiated sighting we’ve had in over a year.”

  “They’re not done—and I don’t mean just with the awful things they’re doing in Scotland. I know Arlys is on her way to Montreal, but when she gets back, I think she and Chuck should, I don’t know, put out an alert. Allegra and Eric worked with the PWs on the first attack on New Hope. They may be with them now, or still.”

  “We’ll find them, Fred,” Duncan assured her with a hard gleam in his eyes that spoke of vengeance.

  “They’ll come after you. You, Tonia, Fallon, Lana, especially. They want us all, but especially you.”

  “And that’s to our advantage.” Fallon finished her eggs. “Neither of them are what you’d call cool heads, and we will be. Neither of them are quite sane, and we are.”

  “I believe in you, and I believe the good always beats back the bad. But crazy and bad? It’s unpredictable, so, you know, be a little wary.”

  Once Fred gathered up the baby, the blocks, Duncan studied Fallon.

  “We didn’t talk about it, about them.”

  “No. I want to say I know how much Denzel meant to you, and I understand the need to even the score.”

  “It can’t be evened.”

  “No, it can’t. I know how I felt when I struck out at Eric, and what blew through me was dark. It was revenge more than justice. I had to pull away from that, and so will you. You’ll need to be a little wary, Duncan, because it’s a powerful feeling. It’s seductive.”

  “I need to end her, for Denzel, for that girl we found and all the ones she laid out on that altar. It’ll be justice. Whatever else I feel when I do end her is mine to deal with.”

  FAITH

  Yet I argue not

  Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate a jot

  Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer

  Right onward.

  —John Milton

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  It worried her, but Duncan was right. It was his to deal with. If she asked him to believe in her, she had to believe in him, believe his light, his heart, both strong enough to resist that dark surge.

  She knew its pull, and had to admit she’d felt it tug inside her the night before when she’d seen what had been done to a young girl.

  Murder, slavery, torture, mutilation, those were horrible crimes. But human sacrifice? An even deeper evil. So yes, she wanted to end them, this mate of her uncle, her own cousin. She wanted to spill the blood of her blood, and knew she’d have to beat back that dark surge to come out whole again.

  Another choice, she thought as she rode to the clinic. One that might prove the hardest of all to make.

  It surprised her when Taibhse dropped down to Laoch’s saddle after she dismounted, and Faol Ban stood on guard. She’d expected them both to go on their way.

  “You don’t have to wait,” she told them. “But if you do, I shouldn’t be long.”

  No one sat in the waiting chairs, which she deemed a good thing as she made her way to the offices. She found Rachel at a desk reading some paperwork with her half-glasses on her nose.

  “Slow day?”

  Rachel took off her cheaters, sat back. “At last. Hannah and Jonah are doing some routine exams. Not one emergency this morning,” she said, rapping her knuckles on the desk three times. “We were able to release a few more this morning, so it’s actually pretty quiet. Quiet enough I was just going over the supply list for the expansion. It’s going to take some doing, but Bill Anderson and his team of miracle workers—which includes your father—say they’ll make it happen so we can, potentially, break ground this spring.”

  Fallon walked over to the detailed sketches pinned to a bulletin board. In them she saw potential and vision, and most of all, faith.

  “You’re going to need more medicals.”

  At that Rachel let out a satisfied sigh. “I have a pediatrician—yay!—in the rescues from D.C. She’s not ready, physically or emotionally, to work yet, but she will be. And I have another healer from the same group. Best of all?”

  Fallon glanced back. “Best of all?”

  “I’ve put together a series of exams, mostly from memory. I want Hannah to take them next month. If she passes, as I know she will, she’ll be a doctor. As officially as we can make it. I’ve talked to Katie, and the town council. We’re all agreed.”

  “I think that’s definitely best of all.”

  “She’s young. Awfully young, but she’s been training, seriously training, since she was thirteen. She’s got a natural talent, and the passion.”

  “Does she know?”

  “I told her this morning. I want her to have time to study. The exams aren’t a cakewalk—shouldn’t be and won’t be. She’ll have earned her M.D.”

  Rachel had let her hair grow a little longer since summer, had it pulled back in a
short pouf of a tail. Now she rubbed the back of her neck under the poof.

  Quiet morning or not, the town doctor and founder of the clinic worked long, hard hours.

  “Maybe you could give the paperwork a rest.”

  “Well. We’re putting in a holistic area, and a physical therapy area. When we do, I swear to God, I’m getting a massage every week.”

  “Meantime.” Fallon moved behind her, rubbed at her neck and shoulders.

  Rachel shut her eyes, let out a sigh. “Come live with me and bring your magick hands.”

  “You can call on them anytime. I’ll look for Hannah before I leave. I wanted to check on Lucy and Johnny—the two I brought in yesterday.”

  “She’s cleared, but we got her a bed so she doesn’t have to leave him until he is. He’s awake, and lucid. Some blank spots in his memory, which isn’t unusual given the head trauma. From what Jonah told me, what you did in the field made the difference. I examined him this morning, and he’s stable. We’ll keep him awhile, but barring something unforeseen, he’ll make a full recovery. And they’ve both asked for you.”

  “I’ll go by and see them. Is that better?”

  “It was better in about two seconds, I just liked the rub.” Laughing, Rachel reached back, gave Fallon a pat. “Let me walk you down. Oh, and more good news,” she added as she rose.

  “I’m always ready for it.”

  “Lissandra and Brennan—the preemie? They’ve officially moved into the apartment over Bill’s. A lot of people ask for a different place when they find out there was a murder in it, but she’s happy to have it. She said she’d been caged, and now she and her son were free. Plus, she hit it off with Bill—who doesn’t? He loves having them upstairs.”

  “That’s very good news.”

  “She’s learning how to knit so she can contribute, and since Bill’s a baby softie, she’s taking Brennan down and helping him at Bygones a couple days a week.”

  “That’s good. Good for all of them.”

  “It is. I advised her to wait until spring before she did any serious volunteering or work outside. It’s better for the baby to stay out of the cold for now, but going right downstairs is fine. She’s a good one, Fallon.”

  She paused outside a door. “I wanted to give these two a little privacy, and with all the releases in the last few days, I could give them their own room. It’s small, but they have it to themselves.”

  Rachel knocked, eased open the door. “You’ve got a visitor. Don’t stay too long,” she murmured to Fallon, and stepped back.

  “Oh, it’s you!” Lucy, hair washed, pulled back in a tail, her face no longer carrying that gray tinge, popped up from a chair. “Johnny, it’s Fallon Swift. We’re so glad to see you. So glad.”

  Fallon barely stepped into the room before Lucy embraced her. “You saved us. Jonah said Johnny’s going to be fine. Rachel said so, too.”

  “That’s good.”

  The man in the bed didn’t look fine, but he looked a hell of a lot better than he had. He sat up in the hospital bed, and though shadows dogged his eyes, they’d healed much of the bruising. He wore a white T-shirt, his arm in a sling, an IV drip in the back of his other hand.

  “You’re The One.” His eyes swirled with tears as he reached out to her. Though his grip was weak, he clung to her hand. “Thank you for the life of the woman I love. Thank you for mine. I—I couldn’t stop them.”

  “There were too many of them.”

  “You stopped them. When I’m able, I’ll fight for you.”

  “We’ll talk about it when you’re better.”

  “No, please.” Lucy moved closer, brushed a hand at his hair. “We’ve talked. I was wrong to ask him not to fight. We want to stay here, so we’ll fight. I don’t know how—my grandmother wouldn’t let me—but I’ll learn. We’ll learn. I can sew, and cook, and garden. I can help until Johnny’s well.”

  “I’ll have someone come in and talk to you about that. And when the medicals say you’re well enough, we’ll see about the rest. How far had you traveled?”

  “Three days, west to east,” Johnny told her. “We’d been in the house we found for two days before the Raiders found us.”

  “And where you came from? How many people?”

  “Maybe a hundred. I’m not sure.” He looked at Lucy.

  “People like my grandmother didn’t want the Uncannys to mix. We had our place, and they had theirs, with the river between.”

  “If I brought a map, could you show me?”

  “I could.” Johnny nodded. “If you went there, some would fight for you.”

  “I’ll bring a map then. For now, get better.”

  She considered as she left them. A small, segregated community. She’d seen them before. It would be worth a visit, worth trying to rally the willing and able.

  She started out, as she’d kept her animals waiting long enough. She saw Hannah in the waiting area with a boy. A pretty little boy, cheeks pink from the cold, blond hair curling out from under a red cap with snowmen dancing over it. Hannah had one of his mittened hands in hers.

  “Of course I’ll go see her. Just let me get my coat and a medical kit.”

  “She’s really sick.” He had a slight, endearing lisp, and big blue eyes. “She coughs and coughs. And her head’s really hot.”

  “We’ll get her some medicine. Hi, Fallon, this is Bobby. His mom’s sick.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.”

  “She doesn’t feel good. She sent me for the doctor.” He stared up at Hannah with those big, blue eyes, a boy no more than six or seven. “You can make her all better. You need to come now.”

  Fallon started to put her hand on his shoulder in comfort, but he jerked away, pushed closer to Hannah.

  “Where is she?” Fallon asked easily. She stared into his eyes, fascinated she could see neither dark nor light. Just the face of innocence. “My horse is outside. He can get you there very fast.”

  “Just Hannah! You need to come now!”

  “It’s okay, Bobby. We’ll go now. It’s all right.” She smiled at Fallon, but surely didn’t see her. Not with those blank eyes.

  “Sure. Wouldn’t want to get in the way.”

  She moved fast, shoved Hannah back, threw power at the boy. He screamed at her, and those blue eyes went black as a crow’s wing.

  “The bitch is mine!” With his child’s hand, he tossed a stream of fire at Hannah. Fallon simply caught it, crushed it. When he heaved the next at Fallon, it crashed against the shield she threw up.

  “Do you think your power exceeds mine, imp?”

  “I want her!” He pounded against the barrier, little fists full of hate. “I want her, I want her! Give her back!”

  “Go to hell,” Fallon suggested as she heard the sound of feet running behind her. “Stay back.”

  “It’s not fair!” Tantrum tears spurted from those black eyes. “You’re mean, and I’m gonna tell. We’ll kill you all! You’ll burn and burn and burn.”

  “I see you now. I see the dark in you.”

  “It’ll eat you up. Chomp, chomp, chomp.” On a scream of laughter, he tried to flash, then looked wildly around when he stayed in place.

  To Fallon’s astonishment, he dropped down to kick his feet, beat his fists in the air. “You’re a mean girl, mean, mean, mean. I wanna go home! Let me out, you shitty-head.”

  “Christ, what a brat. You’re not going anywhere, so calm the hell down. Who sent you?”

  Temper stained his face an ugly red, tears turned it blotchy. But those black eyes gleamed into Fallon’s as he rolled into a crouch.

  A little spider, she thought, poisonous for all its size.

  “The Princess of the Dark has a message for you. Eat this, Cousin!”

  He gathered himself, pulling, pulling power, sucking it in as he might suck in air to blow. Even as Fallon warned, “Don’t,” he unleashed a flood of fire.

  She saw his face, the shock and fear on his face, before the flames struck the
barrier, flew back, and consumed him.

  “Oh my God.” Rachel, still kneeling beside a shaken Hannah, scrambled up.

  “No.” Fallon gripped her arm. “He’s gone. There’s nothing you can do.”

  “He—he was just a child.”

  “Age doesn’t change it. He was a Dark Uncanny cloaked in innocence.”

  “There’s nothing left, not even ash.”

  “Hellfire doesn’t leave ash. You’ll want white sage, salt, a cleansing ritual.” Digging for calm, she turned away, helped Hannah to her feet. “I’m sorry I knocked you back so hard. I had to get you clear.”

  “What happened? What was that?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I…” She pressed a hand to her temple. “I was just finished with an exam. I heard my name. Somebody calling me, and there was a little boy, crying, then … nothing.”

  Hannah pressed her fingers to her temples as if to push out the rest. “I don’t remember anything. I was on the floor, and he—that thing—was screaming.”

  “He had you in a trance. He had power, and skill, despite his age. He wanted you to go with him. He told you his mother was sick in bed, needed a doctor.”

  “I— Yes, I think. It’s foggy. He was going to kill me.”

  “I don’t think so. I think he was sent to take you to her. To Petra. A bargaining chip.”

  “To get to Duncan and Tonia, to you, but absolutely to them.” The shock and confusion on her face shifted, instantly, to cold rage. “That little bastard.”

  “How did he get through security?” Rachel demanded.

  “I think that’s why she sent a child. Small enough to slip through the security posts, and she’d shielded him. Even I couldn’t see into him at first. And that’s when I knew. She’s not as clever as she thinks. In any case, we’ll fix that. You’re okay?” she asked Hannah.

  “Yeah. I feel it.” She winced as she rubbed her ass. “Small price to pay.”

  “Have Duncan and Tonia make you a charm. They’ll know what to do. Wear it, twenty-four-seven.”

  “Right now, we’re going to exam so I can look you over.”