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He grinned. “Race ya.”
For a precious few minutes, she was back in the woods, in their faerie glade, in the youth, racing Mick to a finish line. When he edged her out, she shook her head and laughed. “You had a head start.”
“Blew you away.” He pulled open the door.
In one section of the gilded lobby, medicals treated wounded. In another, support staff issued new supplies when needed. On a higher floor, a commissary had been converted to a mess hall to cook for the medicals, the wounded, to prepare the MREs.
She started to direct Mick toward the back when he called out. “Hey, Jon! That’s him.”
Fallon saw the man—black beard with a sprinkle of gray, tired eyes, worn and muddied boots—move toward them. He had a limp, a slight one, and a rifle slung over his shoulder.
“They’re checking.” His voice, gruff, grave, held the fatigue she saw in his eyes. “Said it would take awhile and I could get some of the meal packs for my people.”
“We’re fighting the same fight,” Mick said cheerfully. “This is Fallon.”
“Fallon Swift.” Jon scrubbed his hands on the thighs of his pants before offering it. “It’s great to meet you. We never lost hope, but there were days, and nights, when it was hard to hold on to it. My girl—”
“Marichu,” she said. “She reached us.”
He closed his eyes, then pressed his fingers to them. “Thank God. Thank God. I had to get her out, make her go. I didn’t see any other way to— She’s okay?”
“She’s . . . fast,” Fallon decided as Marichu streaked through the main doors. “See for yourself.”
“Dad.” Colorful hair flying, she all but leaped over the marble floor.
On a choked sound, Jon grabbed her up. All the strain in his face just melted away.
“Let’s give them some room,” Fallon murmured.
Mick stepped back, but watched the reunion, draped an arm over Fallon’s shoulders. “That’s what it’s about. That’s the reason.”
“Yes.” Love, she thought, bright as the sun. And friendship. She circled Mick’s waist with her arm. True as the heart.
That night she felt both lying in Duncan’s arms, and when they rose, vowed to take that—the reason—into battle.
Power pulsed through her, around her, in those hushed moments before light broke the dark. She saw it in her mind’s eye, the troops poised, positioned strategically around Central Park. The warriors crouched in other parts of the city, ready to block, to cut down any who tried to break through the lines.
They held, the men, women, witches, warriors, elves, faeries, shifters, all who’d fought for weeks for a city smothered in black magicks. All who’d fought to bring the light back.
Like the statue of Prometheus, she thought, this city could, and would, shine again.
As the light blinked through the haze in the east, through the towers that stood even after two decades of war, she drew her sword, set it to flame.
Saw the answering flame of Duncan’s, the tipped fire of Tonia’s arrow, the surge of light from every direction. At that signal, she pointed her sword east, pulled light from the burgeoning sun.
Day burst like a bomb.
And they charged.
They rooted the enemy from burrows, flushed them from trees, drove them in so her northern troops broke through to take more ground.
Swords slashed, magicks clashed over ground, melting snow turned into a bog that sucked greedily at boot and hoof.
PWs who hadn’t escaped the city, who she knew were now used as DU fodder, ran in panic to be attacked by both sides. Taibhse swooped, tore strips from a panther shifter as Faol Ban joined to fight off a pack of wolf shifters. Through the scream of crows ripped the screams of men, so the melting snow ran red.
She took Laoch into a steep climb, rising into wind that whirled with those clashing magicks. She sliced through the wings of a dark faerie, sent her spiraling to the ground. Below she saw the ground shake under a platoon of her men, and hurled fireballs at the clutch of Dark Uncanny who worked to open the earth beneath them.
She wheeled Laoch in midair, saw that Vivienne’s commander kept his word. His troops surged in from the north, trapping the enemy between walls of warriors.
Diving east she fought with her father, pumping power and flame against the hail of black lightning. It sizzled to the ground, scorched.
“Drive them in,” she shouted, ignoring the enemy who fled. They would meet yet another wall in Troy’s battalion.
“Keep the heat on,” Simon shouted back. “We’ve got this.”
Trusting he did, she galloped south.
She joined with Will, then Starr, pushed through to Poe in time to help fight off an attack led by the blur of rushing elves, a rain of arrows. She swept them back, sent them tumbling in a whirlwind.
“Fast fuckers.” Poe swiped at the mud on his face.
“You’re bleeding.”
His breath came fast, but he shook his head, flexed his impressive biceps. “Just the meat.”
In answer Fallon leaned over, pressed a hand to his arm to close the wound. “Drive them in.”
“You got it, boss.”
She raced toward Mick’s troops, and charged a Dark Uncanny as he flashed lightning from his hands. Laoch impaled him on his horn, shook him off.
“We’ve got some wounded,” he called to her.
“Medics and reinforcements are on the way.” She pivoted to strike out at the next attacker, then streaked to Tonia. “Mick needs some help.”
Gripping Fallon’s hand, Tonia swung up with her. “Let’s take a ride.”
They flew up, circled. Tonia’s arrows flashed down, finding mark after mark. “Like old times,” she said.
“There, Travis is moving in to back Mick up. Drive them in,” Fallon ordered. “Drive them in.”
“Meda and her horsemen—women—are sure as hell doing just that. Jesus, Mallick and Duncan have merged, and they’re kicking ass. Drop me off that way. I want in.”
Tonia leaped down onto an outcropping of rock, arrow already nocked, then flying into the belly of a tiger.
Through the mud and the blood, the scorching flames, the cutting wind, they fought, pushing, pushing the enemy inward, closing in around them like the walls of a well.
She saw the spread, the rise of black wings, felt the streak of power slap the air. For a stunned moment she thought: Eric. But she’d buried the ashes of her uncle herself, had salted the earth over them.
Still, she sent Laoch in pursuit.
Up, up, high above the city, beyond the crows that screamed, he turned.
No, not Eric, but every bit as twisted and dark.
He smiled, lips curving in a face as handsome and smooth as a carved angel’s. She realized almost too late he’d drawn her away, isolated her.
When he threw the first strike of lightning at her, she blocked it with her shield and pivoted to stream flame from her sword at the attacker who’d swooped in on her flank.
He swept away the fire as a third charged in.
She thought of Mallick’s ghosts, wondered why neither of them had thought to practice in midair.
They combined power, heaved it toward her. She dived, felt the heat of it blow past her—and felt Laoch’s quick start of pain. But he never faltered, streaking up, wheeling as she slashed out, caught a wing, followed through with a gale that tumbled the wounded one into the second.
As they flailed, she blocked a blow from the first, pushed back.
They regrouped, the handsome one, the wounded one, a female with dozens of flying black braids. She steadied Laoch for the next attack.
Duncan’s voice sounded in her head. Make room.
“No, don’t—”
But he flashed behind her, sliced his sword so the flame from it lashed out like a whip. It struck the one she’d wounded, seemed to curl around him as he shrieked. The fire simply enfolded him, left a trail of bitter smoke as he fell.
“Which one do you want?” Duncan asked her.
“The male. Son of a bitch.”
She lashed out, again and again. A strike, a block, a sweep of power. He had more than he should—who knew what bargain he’d made with some devil to increase his power.
“We’re wasting time. Give me your hand,” she ordered.
“Busy here.”
“Your hand!”
She reached back, gripped it. Light sparked from the joining, power meeting, merging. With it, she threw what she had at the dark angel, felt Duncan loose his own.
That power cut through them like glass. They didn’t shriek. They made no sound at all as they fell.
“Are you hurt?”
“No. You are.”
She didn’t feel the pain until he pressed a hand to her hip to heal the slice and burn.
