Daybreak (40 page)
Pen kept running, seeing that scene unfold. Banging through a set of double doors, she vaulted over corpses that bore Tru’s claw marks. Her side ached. Her mind rattled like a rock in a bottle. But all she wanted was to see him whole and well. The fire would reach him soon.
Into the general’s inner sanctum, she coughed and searched through the dense smoke and flames. Twisted puddles of human remains dripped off the upper balcony and coated the sleek marble floors. Some bodies were turned inside out. Some looked how humans would appear if their bodies were the tallow that fed a candle’s flame. Liquefied.
She found O’Malley first. Just a wreck of a man.
Funny, that her magic had let him live.
He coughed into the crook of his elbow as the smoke became a crushing weight in Pen’s lungs. Kneeling on the foul devil’s chest, she whipped out her knives. Killing him with her mind would be too generous. Instead she gutted him from stomach to sternum. He flailed, choking his last breaths.
Pen turned and used her mind to pinpoint where Tru had been blasted. His aura was so faint, nearly invisible amid the bright orange glow of the fire. She raced to his side, finding him almost defenseless in human form.
“Tru!”
She ducked under his armpit, trying to lift him. But he was big and heavy. Instead she stood and grabbed his wrists. Inch by inch, she dragged him out of that burning bedlam. Her shoulders ached, ready to pop out of their sockets. But she didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop.
Not now, Tru. Please, my love. Not like this.
She barely got him past the threshold of the upper balcony before O’Malley’s sanctum collapsed. Vibrations shivered through the ancient building. Mortar and hunks of plaster rained down from the ceiling.
Drawing on her last stores of energy, she dug deep into Tru’s unconscious mind and shook hard.
On your feet!
On your feet!
He jumped to wakefulness. Sitting up, he grabbed his head and growled in pain. “Fuck, my head!”
“Sorry,” she said, grabbing him around the waist. Tugging. Urging. “We gotta run.
Now.
”
Now.
”
“Pen, what the hell?” He blinked amid the ash and flame.
“Shut up and move.”
With one last shake of his head, he pushed to his feet. Only then did she realize the bullet wound that had ripped open the meat of his thigh. Later. She could heal him later.
The building began its slow, decaying collapse. Tru leaned heavily on her for support, until he regained his bearings. Then it was just a matter of compensating for his injury. They ducked falling debris. Always forward. Pushing on. Pen couldn’t breathe past a hard cough lodged in her throat.
With one last mental search of the burning wreckage, she found what remained of O’Malley’s consciousness and ended his life.
Just to be goddamn sure.
She and Tru burst into relatively fresh evening air. Behind them, the citadel burst apart in a fierce wave of heat. The glow of her magic formed a bright triangle of light that stretched skyward, as ash sprinkled down like light snow. Pen and Tru just
ran
.
ran
.
Only when they emerged past the outer barricades of the fortress did they slow. His adrenaline must have flagged because he began to limp heavily. They gasped, leaning against a tree, arms trembling as they held each other.
“I hope Arturi got Zhara out,” she whispered.
Tru stopped petting her back. He pulled away, his tense expression illuminated by the distant flames. “What do you mean? You don’t know?”
“I heard your call. You needed me.” She swallowed, where the pain of so much smoke had been replaced by thick tears. “I couldn’t leave you to die, my love. Arturi had his mate to save. I had mine.”
Shuddering, Tru pulled her into a fierce embrace. He didn’t speak for the longest time, just held her as she held him. Desperately. As if they’d just survived the absolute worst the Changed world could throw at them.
Maybe they had.
“You chose me,” he said, his voice deep and rough.
She stroked the damp hair back from his face, smoothing, over and over, just to prove that he was alive. “I made a promise. One I intend to keep for as long as I’m able. That means taking care of us. I’m sorry it took so long for me to see how important your love is to me. Nothing can take its place. Nothing else is worth fighting for.
Your
love, Tru.”
Your
love, Tru.”
He gathered her close. There in his mind, he shared the image she’d been unable to hold steady. Their future together. A home. Safety. Children. Peace. And all the love they could fit into one beautiful lifetime.
Pen wept until her chest ached with it. Even Tru’s eyes weren’t dry.
“I should heal your leg,” she said. “So we can make it to the rendezvous.”
“You’re a wreck. I can make it.”
She was about to argue with him but stopped short. He was Tru. He knew his limits, and most times he knew hers better that she did. She nodded, then helped him into the clothes she’d carried on her back. He was shivering but strong enough to make it to camp. There, they could eat, heal, rejuvenate. And celebrate.
Just before they set out, she took his wrist and re-fastened his bracelet. “Can’t forget this.”
He closed his fingers over hers and squeezed. For once, her magnificent poet was speechless.
They propped each other up, shuffling away from the past as it burned. Ahead, at the rendezvous, she glimpsed a familiar leaf-green aura. Zhara. There was grief in their camp, with so many dead, but there was also elation and the adrenaline of having won an impossible fight. With O’Malley eliminated and the heart cut out of his empire, Arturi’s little band could rebuild. A real future—maybe even the glorious one she’d envisioned.
“Almost there, my love,” she said. “Our friends are waiting for us.”
Smiling, he lowered his head to hers for a kiss.
EPILOGUE
It was a splendid day to get married. Again.
This time Tru wore a brand new suit, hand-tailored for the occasion of the finest linen the weavers could produce. He stood before Preacher waiting for Pen to become his bride all over again. After everything they’d endured, he shouldn’t be nervous.
And he wasn’t. Much.
But he didn’t relax fully until she came into view wearing a watercolor-blue dress, walking toward him across the field of flowers. The sun burnished her hair, picking out the gold streaks. She moved toward him in time to the music while their friends watched with affectionate approval. That she’d chosen him once seemed incredible. For her to do so again was miraculous. He was the luckiest man alive.
Pen reached his side, and Preacher raised his hand to stop the pipers. “Dear friends,” he intoned. “We gather to join this man to this woman in the sight of the earthly and the eternal. The only law of life is love. Without it, life is nothing, and without love, death has no redemption. If we learn nothing more, let it be this.”
The crowd murmured its assent, for this was the teaching of the Church of the Change. Tru had heard far worse foundations for faith. He smiled into Pen’s eyes, listening as Preacher continued. “Penelope and Truman, do you both come before this company of your own free will and with free hearts to pledge to each other?”
“I do,” Tru said. His heart sang at hearing her soft reply in perfect time with his.
“Then repeat after me: I, Truman, in the name of the great spirit that resides in us all, by the life that courses within my blood and the love of my heart, take you, Penelope, to be my chosen one. I promise to love you wholly for all the days of my life, and even into the great beyond, where we may meet, remember, and love again. Your path is now mine. May our shadows never part.”
On a deep, shaky breath, he spoke the words as a soft light gathered around Pen. The onlookers gasped a little, but not in dismay. The light show didn’t surprise him, only drew a tender smile. He loved everything about her, even this incredible magic.
When her turn came, Pen spoke her vows in a firm voice. Preacher beckoned Adrian forward. The boy came bearing an old chalice that had been salvaged from some ruined cathedral. It was tarnished silver, ornate, full of a sweet-smelling wine.
The cleric took it and drew Tru toward Pen with a hand on his shoulder. “Drink ye both from the cup of love.”
Symbolic, certainly. They bent their heads together and tipped the goblet up, rich red trickling into nearly touching mouths. The task proved messy but unexpectedly delicious, just like life in the Changed world. The audience laughed a little when they bumped noses, and Tru heard the soft “ahhh” when they kissed.
“Hey! We haven’t gotten there yet,” Preacher said, laughing.
Tru stood back with a wicked grin, loving that he could make her glow like that. And when Pen was happy, she actually lit up the world around her. Fucking magical, his wife. Or . . . she would be his wife soon, officially, in the Church of the Change as well as the private skinwalker way. She’d never get away from him now.
“I now pronounce you husband and wife. May your love endure eternally.
Now,
Tru, kiss your bride.”
Now,
Tru, kiss your bride.”
With great eagerness, he did. Flower petals rained down soft, white, and delicately scented. Pen twined her arms around his neck, leaning into him—the female embodiment of bliss, of all his dreams.
She chose me,
he thought in pure wonder.
All over again.
She chose me,
he thought in pure wonder.
All over again.
After the ceremony came a banquet, dancing, and more congratulations than Tru could answer. Pen never left his side. He’d given up hope it could ever be like this between them. She had seemed so convinced that they wouldn’t make it down from O’Malley’s mountain, and yet they both had.
Later, Arturi—with Zhara in tow—came to offer his congratulations. “So how long will you two lovebirds be out of commission?”
Tru glanced at Pen, brow lifted in inquiry. She was the one with the world-saving vocation. “My heart?”
She offered a secret smile. “Indefinitely, I think.”
Arturi’s mouth gaped open. “But there are still so many people to rally, Penny. We took out O’Malley, but the damage from his tyranny has yet to be healed. It may take years to see real progress in the recovery.”
“I wish you well with that, my old friend. But as it turns out, I don’t need to save the world. I only needed to help
you
. Now that I have, I’ve found a new calling.”
you
. Now that I have, I’ve found a new calling.”
“What do you mean?” the small man asked.
Zhara tilted her head. “Pen has interesting news for her husband. We should grant them some privacy.” She led Arturi toward the refreshments : honey cakes and fruit, fresh cheese and flat bread.
“You’re really walking away?” Tru asked.
“I had a revelation when I staggered away from the witch. My brain was a mess. Completely defenseless, I think. And I saw the future. Not just some idea of how things could be, but a vision as real as any history yet to come.” She glanced toward Arturi, where he stood facing his wife, his arms crossed behind her back. “All these years, the voices, the doubt. I was meant to help Finn. He has Zhara now. That will keep him strong as he puts the world to rights.”
“What do you mean?”
“That vision? It was of Arturi at the head of a new Changed government. Real civilization. Decades from now, all gray hair and wrinkles. But with that same fire in his eyes, and Zhara at his side. His strength.” She took his hands. “That’s not my future. It’s theirs. I have to . . . I have to put our family first.”
“Are you telling me . . . ?”
“I think so,” she said with a shy smile. “It’s early days. We’ll know for certain in a few weeks. If I’m right and you’re willing, I’d like to head west for our honeymoon. I don’t want to travel when I get big, and it would be a comfort to have the baby near Jenna and Mason. I might need their help.” She paused, studying his face.
Pure joy rushed through him. Where he’d had nothing, now he had everything. Tru pushed out a shaky breath and swept Pen into his arms for a kiss that would leave no doubt as to his reaction. “I didn’t think I could ever feel like this again,” he whispered into her hair.
“I’d given up hope. I thought there was something wrong with me for the longest time, that I was crazy. I never imagined I could embrace such joy.”
“We’ll take the trip slow. In stages. It should be easier now that we don’t have to worry about O’Malley’s slave gangs. We can even drive one of his vehicles, though the roads will be shit.”
“Where are you going?” Adrian had come up behind them, a closed look on his face.
He thinks we’re making plans that don’t include him. That he’ll be left behind again.
“Talking about heading west to see our folks and settle down,” Tru answered easily. He didn’t need to look at Pen for confirmation. This was right, and her accord filled him with warmth. “You willing to head out day after tomorrow?”
The kid’s face lit up. “Yeah. That would be great.”
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