Daybreak (31 page)
To her surprise, Arturi caught her by the upper arms and looked directly into her eyes. His height meant they stood face-to-face. A glimmer of distress passed over his features. “Do not waste these moments. Don’t. You owe it to those who have lost.”
“Is that why Zhara held so many doubts about your feelings for her?” She couldn’t help the sharpness of her words. He was cutting way too close to the quick.
“If I’m unable to tell my wife, entirely and completely, how I feel about her, I will regret it like no other failure in my life. That is a mistake too painful to be made by more than one person in this world.”
He nodded to the aft railing, where Tru stood next to Adrian. They laughed about something, with Adrian pointing to the shore. Pen’s breath caught. Not for the first time, she found herself standing next to Arturi when she desperately wanted to be with those two.
Maybe Arturi was right. She might not be able to tell Tru the entire truth about her vision, but she could spend what time remained with him. And she could tell him the truth about her feelings. Now. Before they made landfall and the hunt began. Before she faced her death.
He might never care for her as he had loved his wife, but surely he harbored some affection. The pain Arturi lived with—and might need to live with forever, if they weren’t successful—seemed like the worst possible sort of remorse.
She nodded to her friend and wove back across the ship’s deck, passing the soldiers who would make war on O’Malley. The waves rocked her footsteps but not her focus. She reached the railing and stood to Tru’s left, with Adrian on his other side.
He spared her a glance, then returned his gaze to the ocean. “How’s the commander?”
“Hopeful, actually. It’s good to see.”
“Is that why you’re so chipper?”
His hint of mockery didn’t sit well, but she probably deserved his scorn. She hadn’t been up front with him about so many things. Maybe this . . . maybe this would be different.
“No, I think that’s for another reason,” she said softly. “Tru, can I talk to you for a moment? In private?”
THIRTY-TWO
Tru kept his expression quiet, not showing his anger. He merely nodded and moved farther down the rail. If Pen thought he would make it easy for her to pass off some speech about how they needed to focus on the mission, she didn’t know him at all. He’d
always
been a fighter.
always
been a fighter.
“I just want you to know that I . . . well, that I love you.” In speaking those words, her mouth twisted as if she’d bitten into a crab apple.
“Sure you do,” he said. “I can tell by the way you treat me.”
Her expression fell.
What was he supposed to say? Love didn’t look like this, at least not what he’d known of it. Even if she was scared, she could turn to him if she trusted him. She’d been in fucking
tears
. Instead of revealing what was on her mind, she’d clammed up. Said “trust me” like he was a primitive tribesman who needed her to interpret signs before he set off on an ocean voyage.
tears
. Instead of revealing what was on her mind, she’d clammed up. Said “trust me” like he was a primitive tribesman who needed her to interpret signs before he set off on an ocean voyage.
His relationship with Danni hadn’t been perfect—they had both been young and dumb—but Tru knew how it should work. Give-and-take. Plenty of talking that, sure, could lead to fighting. But conflict opened the way to greater understanding. When there was only silence and distance, nothing permanent could grow. And that made him sad for so many reasons.
“You don’t believe me,” she said.
“Love is huge, wonderful, and terrifying, and it kills you to lose it, but even with the pain, you wouldn’t do anything different.”
And if she felt that for him, she wouldn’t be so sad-faced right now, like she’d just confessed to a terminal illness. Love meant joy, every bit as much as it held the potential for loss.
“You mean Danni.”
I mean you. Because you’re going to break my heart just like she did, only it won’t be through circumstances beyond your control.
How did I fall for such a closed-off female?
Told you we’d be better off with six,
the lion said lazily.
the lion said lazily.
Quiet, you.
Tru didn’t speak or form the pictures in his head that would let her understand. He maintained the distance between them, just like the space between their hands on the rail. She had small scars on her fingers, gained through hard work, just like everyone else. The Orchid liked to pretend she wasn’t above the messiness of everyday life, but maybe deep down, she preferred her untouchable persona. Flowers didn’t bleed, or hurt, or cry. She’d rather keep going down this path, toward mindless self-sacrifice. People could talk about her goodness after she died.
At the first indication of trouble, she’d raced right back to that behavior. Saving the world. He felt like a fucking
ass
for thinking he was special enough, important enough, to be the man to her woman. But it wasn’t enough.
He
wasn’t enough.
ass
for thinking he was special enough, important enough, to be the man to her woman. But it wasn’t enough.
He
wasn’t enough.
“I let you in,” he said. “Despite my better judgment, I did. I
knew
it was a bad idea—”
knew
it was a bad idea—”
“Because you were hurt before.”
God, she didn’t understand anything. While she might be the most magically gifted human on the planet, she had the emotional understanding of a child. That didn’t set well with him either, as if he’d taken advantage of her naïveté. Sure, he could make her come, but he couldn’t reach her on any other level.
“No, Pen. It was a bad idea because you don’t understand how relationships work. You don’t care about building a partnership. That’s not love. And if you don’t get the difference, I’m through trying to explain it to you. Remedial class is over.”
Tru moved away, unwilling to listen to more of her justifications. It didn’t take long to make landfall, where the others were waiting. The rest of the day was long, spent bidding farewells and laying plans. He stuck by Adrian, who would accompany the militia to General O’Malley’s stronghold. They would divide the force there, one for diversion and one to lead a small group into the belly of the beast. Tru intended to be among the latter. No one could deny his combat experience and aptitude for killing.
Once Bethany and the scouts from the mission joined them on the beach, they moved out. Arturi gave no more speeches. Tru had a little more faith in him now. No telling what the man could accomplish if he managed to rescue his wife and defeat the greatest opponent to rebuilding any kind of civilization. O’Malley had been quoted often as saying that chaos was good for the bottom line.
To Tru’s mind, the old general was a dinosaur. The Changed world didn’t function on capitalist principles anymore. Most people were too busy just trying to meet basic needs to care about stockpiling wealth. Only a rare few, like the general, had used the Change to springboard to a position of power. There were other private empires, but none so vast or strangling.
If we can put him down, it will give people some breathing room.
Big if.
After the noon meal, Tru shifted and scouted ahead, looking for a good place to camp. He had company this time, a couple of skinwalkers from Arturi’s camp—a male marmot and a female crow. They made an odd team, but the bird flew ahead, calling warnings until they ran into their first problem just before dark.
It was a pain in the ass that they had to shift back in order to discuss what she’d seen. Tru averted his eyes as they dressed. “There’s an encampment up ahead,” the woman said. “We could go around, but we’ll lose time, and they’ve got traps set up around the perimeter.”
Tru shook his head. “We can’t risk it after dark. Our numbers are too great for such a delicate maneuver.”
“We should go back and report,” the man said. Tru had forgotten his name. Koss, maybe? Generally, he didn’t recall unless it was a kid or someone he especially liked. Kids needed to be remembered because people often acted as if they didn’t count.
The skinwalkers returned in human form. No sense in burning extra energy to shift for the run back to the others, who moved at a steady speed a few kilometers behind. That meant running, but all of them were lean and strong, a side benefit of their abilities.
By the time they rejoined the small army, however, Tru was tired. He let the woman fill Arturi in on what they’d found. He felt Pen watching him, but he wasn’t in the mood. Instead he listened as Arturi decided how to handle his first combat dilemma.
“Xialle, do you get the impression they’re waiting for us?” he asked at last.
Xialle must be the crow.
“They’re waiting for something,” she answered. “They’ve dug in, established defenses all along the road.”
“Mines, probably,” someone said.
Everyone knew—and feared—that the general had access to an old cache of claymores from one of the great wars. The mines worked on a simple, deadly principle, and no one had the expertise to disarm them. Such knowledge belonged to the world that had been lost. But the old bastard would maim using whatever technology he could get his hands on, until he ran out of stockpiled ordnance or someone cut his throat. Tru would enjoy being that someone.
“I might be able to find them before our troops go in,” Pen said.
Of course. Her magic could do damn near anything except make her happy. Tru folded his arms, mouth set.
“How?” Arturi asked.
“Technology feels different from living things. So if they’ve laid mines, there will be . . . dead spots in the ground.” She appeared to struggle to provide even that much explanation, but the short man nodded.
“How close do you need to be?”
“I’m not sure. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
She had scanned for Zhara from a crazy distance, but the effort had cost her. And O’Malley’s pet spellcaster had nearly melted her brain. Tru wanted to object, but this was her favorite thing to do—save the day and amaze the masses.
Yeah, that’s right, Pen. Add to your legend. Make it so nobody can speak of you without reverence.
He kept his mouth shut, but he simmered through his silence.
Yeah, that’s right, Pen. Add to your legend. Make it so nobody can speak of you without reverence.
He kept his mouth shut, but he simmered through his silence.
“Do you want to try?” Arturi touched her arm lightly.
Tru ground his teeth, even though the man’s touch wasn’t sexual.
He just . . . didn’t like it. In twenty-seven years, damn few things—or people—had belonged to him. In his heart, it felt like Pen did. Which made no sense. She didn’t know how to give herself to one person. She was better at sowing her magic far and wide, a gift for the madding crowd. And that sure was easier than letting somebody really crawl inside her. It would feel like having her guts ripped out if something went wrong, because life was a fucking crapshoot that way. No one had a choice where to get off the ride. Sometimes it spun and dumped you on your ass. Sometimes you staggered out dizzy and smiling.
And she didn’t understand
any
of that.
any
of that.
“I think I have to,” Pen replied.
“I need my journal and graphite.” Arturi gestured and the items came quickly in response to his urgent tone. “I’ll map the area as she uncovers them. We’ll have to figure out a way to detonate them before it’ll be safe to move in.”
“One thing at a time.” But Pen was smiling.
And why not? She was about to make herself
useful
again, as if she lacked intrinsic value without her powers. That idea hit him like a hammer against the skull.
That’s what she thinks.
If she couldn’t do her thing and make the world a better place, what would she be? It
must
have to do with her mom.
useful
again, as if she lacked intrinsic value without her powers. That idea hit him like a hammer against the skull.
That’s what she thinks.
If she couldn’t do her thing and make the world a better place, what would she be? It
must
have to do with her mom.
Pen came out of the station, looking to protect me. But she couldn’t control her mojo. And it cost her mom’s life. That same loss of control had killed innocent girls. Now she feels she has to use those powers, maybe until it kills her, to be worth those sacrifices.
Stupid woman.
Didn’t she know a good mother would risk her life for her child, regardless of intelligence, appearance, or ability? Bad mothers . . . well. Tru knew all about them, too. As it turned out, maybe his mother’s indifference had been for the best after all. Because he’d never once wondered how she’d feel about his lion self.
Didn’t she know a good mother would risk her life for her child, regardless of intelligence, appearance, or ability? Bad mothers . . . well. Tru knew all about them, too. As it turned out, maybe his mother’s indifference had been for the best after all. Because he’d never once wondered how she’d feel about his lion self.
“Then go on,” Arturi said. “We’ll work out the logistics for our first battle afterward, though I think it best to strike under cover of darkness. I hope they won’t be expecting us to mobilize as fast as we did.”
Preacher put up a hand. “I have some ideas in that regard once the Orchid’s done.”
Understanding her actions didn’t sweeten the pain of watching Pen kill herself slowly—and for the greater good. Beatific deeds couldn’t be everything. Not in a whole and happy life.
As shadows lengthened around him, Tru bolted down another meal to fortify himself for the coming night. Then he shifted once more, and in lion skin, he slipped off to do a little preparation of his own.
THIRTY-THREE
Pen drank the water Shine provided, then ate tough jerky with meticulous bites. Her headache only intensified. She was a healer. She should be able to get her own agonized brain through the next few hours. But the sizzling pain would not abate.
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