Shades of Gray: A Jude Magdalyn Novel (21 page)
“Again, Jude.
It’s important you learn how to master as many skills as possible before the final battle.”
“Oh, we’ve set a date, then? We’ve marked the day on the calendar and all that jazz?” Maybe I was a little more sarcastic than usual but God was I tired. My little interlude with Theo consisted of the only time in the past twenty-four hours I’d done anything other than eat, sleep, or train.
Gillian glared at me, and I felt my tongue burn for a split second before I sputtered and spit. When I no longer felt like hot cheese stuck to my tongue, I rasped out, “Not nice, Gillian.”
“Much like your attitude. Since even I am forced to admit you have a way with sarcasm which outstrips almost any person alive, more physical means are necessary to put you in your place.” Gillian strode across the room to where I sprawled in a chair, yanking me to my feet. “Time grows short, Jude. No pretense, no bullshit. We don’t have much time left, and still so much to accomplish.” She sighed, eyes dropping as she turned away. “I greatly fear we simply do not have enough time to do what needs to be done.”
I’ve never been the scared type. I didn’t like the feeling on the streets, didn’t like it off them, and I had really learned to hate fear in every form in the past couple of weeks. But nothing scared me like Gillian almost admitting defeat. Gillian was invincible - the thought of her giving up, something I couldn’t comprehend.
“Do you know something I don’t know? Seriously, has Rian or Celia seen something and you’re just not telling me because you’re worried I might freak out or something?”
“No, Jude. There has been no vision.” Gillian turned back toward me, and her age struck me again. Once all this ended, I’d use some of the huge trust fund I’d come into and send her on a vacation. Maybe on a cruise or Vegas. “Only the feeling in my bones that my time grows short.”
“What am I supposed to do without you, Gillian? Who’s going to teach me all the crap I have to know to win this war?” My stomach clenched. I did not need more emotional trauma in my life.
“Whatever we don’t learn together, you’ll discover on your own. No need to worry about that little bit future at the moment. For now, you need to concentrate on making these vines grow as you will.”
I nodded numbly, silently agreeing to table the conversation. This particular lesson proved hard enough without other thoughts swirling in my head. I moved past Gillian, shoulders squared, facing my nemesis - a pair of potted plants.
I’d discovered the tactic I used for calling air and fire useless when it came to earth. I couldn’t force the earth to do anything. The key, I discovered, coaxing it to action. Given my general track record with patience, one can only guess how well the lesson turned out.
I took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I thought about the warmth of summer sun on my skin, a crisp breeze blowing off the river, and tried to push those thoughts into the plants. Something inside me sparked for the briefest of seconds before the window or door slammed shut.
“Hell.”
“Your technique is solid, your execution misguided.” Gillian’s voice murmured softly in my ear, and I felt my muscles relax in response. “The vines do not grow on their own. They grow from the earth. Try again.”
Rolling my neck and popping my joints, I closed my eyes. I thought again of summer sun, warm breezes, and misty rain. I pictured the black potting soil taking in all the elements, using them to grow and thrive. The meditative picture lulled me into relaxing, and I jumped more than a little when I heard Elizabeth’s voice. Hell if I knew when she walked into the room. “Holy crap.”
“Language, Elizabeth.” Amusement and pride colored Gillian’s voice. “Open your eyes, Jude. See what a little patience can accomplish.”
I opened my eyes, blinking in surprise. “That’s a little patience? What if I’d had a lot of patience?”
“We might have finally replanted the flower beds in the courtyard.” Elizabeth’s voice held a mixture of humor and awe. The two potted plants had overgrown their containers, vines trailing over the floor for at least three feet. I didn’t recognize the delicate blossom dotted among the vines, but Elizabeth did.
“Honeysuckle. Nice choice, although I’m pretty sure that’s not what the plants were originally.” Elizabeth moved forward cautiously, kneeling down and breathing in deeply. “Fragrant, and useful in more than one magical concoction. A multi-purpose flower.”
“Well, I do aim to please.” No longer concentrating on making the plant grow, fatigue hit me like a silk covered hammer. I couldn’t think of a polite way to plant my butt on the ground without disclosing how weak I felt.
I sat down, no explanations. I didn’t fool Gillian.
“Out of all the elements, Earth is the hardest one to use as a weapon. The element is more defensive than offensive. If capture of yourself or your compound is imminent, you can use Earth to shore up your defenses.” Gillian’s hand on my shoulder pushed me until I laid flat and I didn’t put up any fight at all. Jesus, I was tired.
“So, note to self, hire a gardener. Don’t attempt to work on the garden by myself. Check” The floor wasn’t the most comfortable place to try and take a nap, but I overlooked the fault. Or I would if Gillian hadn’t started talking again.
“You should never attempt to draw life from the earth. Strength or power because they can be replenished. Life cannot.”
“You wouldn’t by chance have all of this written down anywhere, would you? Some secret book which actually has really useful information, and not just love and sex spells?”
“Sex spells?” I don’t know if Elizabeth was intrigued or embarrassed, but I would go with intrigued. I’m pretty sure an almost eighteen-year-old girl with the overwhelming responsibility of raising a five year old with evil ass relatives, would be pretty intrigued by sex spells. Hell, if my life were slightly less screwed up, I might have shown interest in them.
“If there is indeed a book which can be used by you, in the event I am no longer around to assist you, you can rest assured a way will be found for you to access it.” With the disturbing statement hanging between us, Gillian brushed any talk about sex spells and magical books to the side, and turned back to the true matter at hand. More instruction, followed by more instruction, followed by more instruction.
Two hours passed before I realized Elizabeth had yet to tell us she’d come down to the R.R.. “Did something need my attention, Elizabeth?” Something, anything. Muscles screamed, my head pounded, and I wanted to be anywhere but there at the moment.
“Some people requesting an audience with you, Jude. Well, they were a few hours ago. They might still be around.”
“Oh, shit. You waited two hours to tell me this?” I pushed out of the chair I’d collapsed into after another round of potted plant practice, swaying only slightly at the sudden change in elevation. Woohoo for sheer determination.
“You were slightly busy and it would take more than visitors to have me interrupt one of Gillian’s lessons.” Nice to know Elizabeth possessed a spine. I’d had a hunch. Nice to find out I wasn’t wrong.
Gillian smiled, like she knew the real reason the people upstairs concerned me. She folded her hands at her waist and inclined her head in the direction of the door. “We’ll continue at a later time, Jude. You and Elizabeth run off and see to your visitors. Have Bridget give you something for your head before the ache gets any worse.”
“She has archery training with the Silent Ones at three this morning.” Elizabeth knew my schedule better than I did. Good, because I had forgotten completely about training. Bad, because I really didn’t want to attend the session now I’d been reminded of it.
“Hmm. In that case, have Bridget put a mild tranquilizer in with the herbal she gives you.”
“Nice to know everybody can maintain their sense of humor while I’m being forced to walk the plank. Come on, Elizabeth. Let’s go see if my mystery visitors turned to stone while waiting or if they simply gave up and left.” The room spun, but I managed to stay upright. Elizabeth gave me her arm to lean on, which let me know I looked as bad as I felt.
Gillian stayed behind, either to tidy up or prune the fifty feet or so of vine rambling across the floor. Elizabeth and I made it up the first two flights of stairs before I needed to sit down. Since I had the choice of either sitting or falling and two flights was a long way down. I went with sitting.
“Maybe I should go get Theo, or Rian. I may haul Celia around, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to have a chance in hell at picking you up.”
“I would have to agree with your assistant, Jude Magdalyn. But as I am here at the moment, perhaps I might offer my services in assisting you up to the main floor.”
And in two seconds flat, the night went from screwed up to fucked up. I hadn’t seen hide or hair of Williams since he’d left two nights ago. Since I still wasn’t allowed outside the house without a guard - scratch that, if I got outside at all - I assumed he hadn’t been able to track Hart down and finish him off.
I couldn’t argue, Williams carry me up the stairs would be a lot quicker than struggling up them. I nodded reluctantly, and Elizabeth moved up a few stairs to keep from crowding Williams. He lifted me like I weighed nothing, but when you’re super frickin’ strong, a lot of things must seem like they weigh nothing. His arms supported me, and he kept his hands away from anything too personal.
After a flight of stairs, Williams shifted me in his grip, and I couldn’t help a groan when the movement set off a fire alarm in my head. The really loud kind, not the nice electronic tone. Williams sighed, his breath ruffling my hair. “Elizabeth, why don’t you run along and see if you can locate Bridget. The last I saw of her she was in the storeroom off the kitchen. Jude Magdalyn would seem to be in need of a restorative aid.”
I’ll give Elizabeth credit. She hesitated for a long moment, only turning and hurrying up the stairs when I nodded my head. Williams followed, albeit at a slower pace. Whether to jostle me less or because he wanted a little quiet time, I wasn’t sure. Either way, we were alone.
Something that’d always worked out so well in the past.
“You’ve acquired another admirer in young Elizabeth.”
“Elizabeth helps keep me organized. And Celia’s a trip. Can’t be in a room with her for more than five minutes before she does something absolutely hilarious.” We could have a normal adult conversation while reenacting Gone With the Wind.
“Theo seems to be quite attached to you as well. One would go so far as to say utterly devoted.”
“Williams, if you have something in particular you want to say, I’m guessing now would be the time. I’m not seeing anybody around but the two of us.”
“Nothing that hasn’t already been said. You appear to have made your choice.” Back to being cryptic as hell. I really wasn’t in the mood and I did my best to ignore him. Not easy, since he carried me, but I tried.
Neither of us said anything until we reached the main floor and the hallway which ran next to the kitchen. He set me down gently, supporting my lower back with his hand until I stood steady. I wouldn’t have let him carry me for everyone to see how crappy I felt, and I appreciated not having to tell him.
Not second too soon, Bridget and Elizabeth stepped out of the storeroom. Bridget held a cup filled with steaming liquid, and Elizabeth held another cold compress. Sighing, I stepped forward, taking the cup from Bridget. I wrinkled my nose at the smell, shuddering at the thought of the taste.
I blew on the liquid, trying to cool it off. “Well, bottoms up,” I muttered. The tea burned going down, but wasn’t nearly as disgusting as imagined. Whatever it contained was nothing short of a miracle. Before the heat in my chest began to ease every other part of me relaxed.
“Alright, now that I look like I’m only one level below living and not five, I guess I should go meet whoever, if they’re still here.” I might have been exhausted, but I could still notice when people exchanged nervous glances around me. “Okay, what gives?”
“These visitors might require Gillian’s presence as well. Just to ensure things stay on an even note.” Williams’ voice remained as calm as usual but, since very little threw him into a tizzy, I didn’t look to him as a weather vane. I raised my eyebrows, hoping someone would take the hint and clue me in.
“It’s a group of parents. Some of their children are among those planning to fight in the final battle. All would prefer their children not fight.” Bridget resembled Gillian in that very few things ruffled her feathers. I guess the parents weren’t happy about having to wait for so long, because she looked pretty frazzled.
“What the hell am I supposed to say to a group of angry parents? I mean, do I even remotely remind you of a school principal?”
“I imagine you could start by telling them whatever they need to hear, Jude Magdalyn.”
“Thanks, smartass. Nice to know I can count on you for in-depth advice.” I squared my shoulders, pulled my hair up and twisting it into a bun. “Alright. Time to go beard the lions in the den.”
I was pretty sure the good guy won out in that Bible story. Pretty sure.
They lied.
These parents were furious. I hadn’t seen adults this angry since the time Tessa Moore and I snuck pages of Catcher in the Rye into the sixth grade reading primers. The sixth graders learned some interesting vocabulary. Tessa and I got six months’ worth of daily detention. I skipped out before I was halfway through, and I’d always wondered if the nuns gave Tessa the rest of my detention in addition to hers.
I would have turned on my heel and walked out of the parlor, but Williams and Elizabeth were directly behind me. I pushed my shoulders back, sucked in a deep breath, and strode to the center of the room. Might as well try for a little self-assurance.
The parents moved out of the way and did the whole head bowing thing. I didn’t see any change to the looks of ire, outrage, and on some faces, sheer dislike. Some parents are apparently interested in their children’s wellbeing before anything else, no matter their youngsters’ age. Lucky kids.
“Gabrielle is ten years old. Ten, and she asks me why she can’t join the fight.”
“Jonas was up half the night researching protective spells, and the other half practicing damn archery.”
“Michael does nothing but mix potions and talk online to outsiders about more potions.”
They were surprisingly vocal. The other night you could have heard a pin drop with close to a thousand people in the room. Now with a little over two dozen, I could hardly hear myself think. I tried a few ‘excuse me’s’, but they were too worked up to listen to anything but the sound of their own voices. Finally, I stuck two fingers in my mouth and whistled.
The whistle shut them up. All of them, all the way. I swallowed against the lump in my throat. “Now that I can actually hear everybody, why don’t you all take a seat and we’ll discuss your concerns.”
Polite. Diplomatic. I should have known someone would screw it up.
“We would have discussed these concerns with you nearly two hours ago, if you hadn’t been otherwise…occupied.” I didn’t need to be a psychic of any flavor to know the tall, cold blonde woman with the perfect Uptown accent belonged to Lies and Guile. Even if they’d been her polar opposite in looks, they all possessed the same better than you, snotty bitch attitude that instantly made me want to knock a tooth or ten out. Ignoring the ice sculpture, I turned my attention to the woman in the room who seemed like she might be calm under the upset. “I’m sorry. I don’t know everybody’s names, or their relatives, yet. It’ll take me a bit, or note cards. Why don’t you tell me why you’re so concerned?”
The woman, who barely looked out of her teens, stood and stepped forward. Color me shocked when she grasped my hand and knelt at my feet. “Prophecy—.”
“Jude. I always feel like I’m in a weird situation when people call me the Prophecy.”
“Jude. You’ve called for volunteers to help aid in the fight against Hart and most of us would gladly give our own time and skills.”
“Not as many as you’d think,” muttered Stone Cold Mama, which earned her a glare from the woman at my feet. Always good to know where tensions and loyalties lay.
“Quiet, Wily. You might have let your daughters loose to set their own paths, but until I no longer walk this earth I will watch the interests of Christophe.” One mystery solved.
Before Wily could get out whatever nasty thought she had, I stepped in. “You’re right, I did call for volunteers. You’re also right in that almost all of them are kids.”
“My son is only a year younger than you.”
I turned my head to follow the voice, and found it belonged to a man that could only politely be called fat. He was the only parent who’d stayed standing, probably more because none of the furniture would hold him comfortably than out of respect.
“I’m sorry. I don’t know who your son is without having his name.”
“Samuel. He says you’ve named him as one of the best of your archers.”
With a name, I had a face. It was a good face, strong boned, deep blue eyes, and red hair. “He’s right. For someone with no training, he’s already remarkably accomplished after only two days. If you say he’s only a year younger than me, I believe you. But I can almost bet he’s never huddled in an alley and prayed nobody found his hiding spot. As far as I’m concerned, that makes him a lot more than a year younger.”
I turned back to Christophe’s mother, still kneeling patiently at my feet. “Your children, all of them, are giving of themselves freely. Which, unless I’ve missed some information, is more than can be said for every person in this room.”
“It’s not enough you use our children, you’d have us take up arms in a war that is essentially none of our concern?” Yeah, Wily was going to get on my nerves, just like her girls. Like mother, like daughters. Oh, joy.
“As far as I’m concerned, anything which can change the balance of good and evil is something of concern. Especially when some of the parties involved have already made it clear they don’t care who they hurt or kill, as long as they get what they want.”
“But they’re children. Children.” Christophe’s mother gripped my hand harder, the pressure making me wince. I could have pushed the fact that some of them weren’t children, but I got the point.
“If we lose, Hart won’t give a damn if they’re children or adults. He will systematically kill every person associated with the Covenant.” It was harsh and definitely worst case scenario, but sometimes you have to be brutal to get the point across. Since I heard more than one gasp, I knew they understood this time.
“Your children are phenomenal. You’ve given them the most amazing range of skill sets, and even the ones who aren’t great at archery are still better than some people who’ve had years of practice.” I knelt down until I was eye level with Christophe’s silently crying mother. “We can’t win this war without what they can bring to the table. And we can’t win unless you accept the fact that any possibility of peace is going to be bought with blood and tears.”
“Jude Magdalyn is correct.” Williams spoke for the first time since entering the room. “Hart does not believe in taking prisoners. He kills, eats, or turns. Out of those, you would prefer your children to die at his hands than spend eternity anchored to him.”
“And we should let you, a monster such as Hart, and a street whore lead us into a battle where we’re more likely to lose than to win.” I tried to be the leader Gillian and Theo and Rian and others believed me to be and didn’t go with my first instinct to throw a bolt of lightning at Wily.
Because that wouldn’t have been nice, at all.
“You wonder what we’re fighting for, what’s worth dying for. It’s the chance to pretend wars like this are never fought, to pretend you’ll never worry about your children this way again.” I scanned the faces around me. “We’re fighting for your children, and their children, and their children, to have a chance at a world where they don’t have to be afraid to go out after dark, or to leave a window open.”
“You’re fighting for the greater good.”
I started shaking my head before Williams finished speaking. “No, we’re fighting for something bigger than the greater good. The good is so limited, and this is bigger than that. This is for the bad, the lost, and the misguided. It’s for everyone.” I thought about what Theo said the other night, and the truth in it. “We’re fighting for the greater.”
Christophe’s mother stood, giving me her hand again. “What you say is true. I’ll give of my time and skills as I can, and Christophe will continue as you see fit.”
One by one the other parents in the room stood, making their own pledges. Finally only Wily remained, her face set in stubborn lines. We stared at each other until finally she moved forward, bowing over my hand.
“You should know, Jude, that even if we win, there will be some who will make it their mission to see you replaced.”
I raised an eyebrow, smirking. I’d been threatened with much worse on a much more regular basis, especially recently. “If that’s the best you can do, Wily, you’re way out of your league. I’ll take your help - for now.”
They filed out of the room, leaving slips of scrap paper with Elizabeth. Phone numbers or hours of availability or pizza topping preferences, I had no idea, but she smiled and thanked each person for coming like we’d just finished afternoon tea.
I sank into the chair closest to the fire, leaned my head back and closed my eyes. Blessed quiet at last. Possibly the most perfect moment of the day.
“I’m sorry, Jude, but the Silent Ones are waiting for you.”
Ruined. Damn it.
The kids, who ranged from ten to their mid-twenties, were just like their parents in their need for everything to have some sort of crazy ass name. They’d voted on theirs, saying it made sense because their arrows would be silent killers. I hadn’t the heart to stand in front of all their youthful enthusiasm and tell them arrows, especially if there were a great number of them, did make a noise.
I hadn’t lied when I’d said Samuel ranked among the best, but truthfully, they were all rockstars. I was pretty damn good, but more than one of them had natural talent. You would think they’d been born with a bow and arrow in their hand. Since I couldn’t be everywhere at once, after a few more lessons I planned on leaving the really kick-ass archers in charge of lessons, and move on to another avenue of attack.
“Alright, I can do another hour or so of torture. Not like I didn’t almost die or anything.” I pushed up from the chair, giving a little woohoo inside when there wasn’t any dizziness. Bridget really was as good as Gillian kept saying.
Whatever Elizabeth would have responded, I’d never know. Theo and Rian burst into the room, the crashing door echoing like a gunshot in the almost empty room. It took a moment to register Theo supported the other man, and that Rian bled from a gaping hole in his neck.
Quicker than I could have moved, Williams took Rian’s other side and helped Theo lower him to the floor. Gillian will beat us all if he bleeds on the rug.
Elizabeth looked ghost white, but hadn’t passed out. Points for her. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she did. Secretly, I wanted a little pass-out time myself.
Wetting my lips, I knelt as a tingling began in my hands. They hadn’t felt this way the last time I’d healed someone, but maybe the energy differed because this was external as well as internal. Eyes closed, I moved my hands over the wound in his throat, envisioning the tendons and muscles and veins reforming, the hole closing.
It took longer than I would have thought which made me reevaluate the wound’s severity. When Rian finally gasped for breath, I was sweating like I’d run five miles and my hands shook violently. I opened my eyes and saw Elizabeth had pulled Rian’s head into her lap. Theo wiped the remaining blood away from Rian’s now healed throat.
Rian drew a shaky breath, opening his mouth to speak but let out a hacking cough instead. Elizabeth brushed the hair back from his forehead, shaking her head. “Don’t try and talk right now. Give it a few minutes.”
He shook his head and swallowed. He managed to rasp out one word. “Celia.”
“Williams will go get her.” He was already turning toward the door when Rian shook his head again, more violently this time. He coughed again, a harsh, dry sound.
“Hart. He took Celia.”
