Enchanter's Echo (25 page)

He gave her a smile to ease her mind. Though Aurora hadn’t mentioned it, he thought she’d forgiven Bronte for her role in the metallist’s death. The idea of such expansive forgiveness stunned him. Aurora had the biggest heart of anyone he’d ever met...big enough to hold his darkness. “She’s good.” He modified that. “She’s great.” So was he actually, but he kept that particular smile off his face.

“Really?” Bronte’s surprise rang through the word. “Well…good for her.” She nodded with satisfaction as if she were proud of Aurora.

He tilted his head at her. Vin mirrored his move, studying him, though his next words were for his mate. “He doesn’t know, sweetheart.”

“He doesn’t?” Bronte echoed, eyes wide. Edmund went still for a moment and then took a slow, deep breath, bracing for whatever was coming next.

His mother, silent until now, swiped a newspaper from the table to her right. “Of course he doesn’t know,” she explained gently. She’d liked Bronte from the start, though, to an outsider, her actions might not always have reflected it. “If he’d known, the territory would be short one reporter this morning.” Her voice was matter-of-fact. “The body would be floating in the river.”

“Still might,” Vin quipped.

The waitress with rainbow-tipped hair came around the bar with the coffee pot and a mug. Izzy, according to her nametag. She sidled up to him and leaned in, her back to his family. “Here’s a tip, Mr. Monday,” she whispered. “Always put the bodies in the river somewhere by a light mages’ neighborhood. The lighters never suspect we’d dare come out of the Pipe with a corpse. They probably assume we eat all our corpses.”

At the bar, the senator choked.

“Yes,” his mother agreed airly. “Don’t eat the sausage here.”

“Coffee?” Izzy held up the pot in his direction.

“Please. Two cups to go if you would.”

“Yes, sir. I’ll spell them to stay hot. One with cream and sugar and the other black?”

He nodded. Same thing he'd ordered three days ago. The waitress spun away to get his order, turning to wink at his grandfather as she went.

His mother raised an eyebrow. “Monday?”

He shrugged, eyeing the newspaper she was tapping against her leg. “It’s a long story.” He’d save it for when they were all on better terms. It deserved a more appropriate setting. “By the way, where’s Allison? Tell me you didn’t leave her out of this family reunion.” Her psyche would struggle to rebound if she were excluded.

“She was with us, but we made a stop before coming here, and she decided to
hang out
there. You look terrible. Haggard, unshaven. Did you sleep at all last night? And what is that jacket?”

Izzy returned, two white cups in hand. “Here you are. Extra-large. And it’s on the house.”

Edmund took the cups.

“She likes
you
.” His mother’s expression did not include a smile. “You’re a familiar fixture around here already.”

“It’s a nice neighborhood, Mother.” He traveled over every foot of it as he’d tracked down fissures for three days. The people had almost treated him like one of their own. Of course, he’d been marked as a gang member, key to his welcome. “Pipers walk around with a stubborn dignity you of all people would find admirable, and all that despite the lack of respect from the light.”

“And you’re their darling.”

“Not me. That’s Aurora.”

“Yes, Aurora.” She tapped her finger against her chin. “The enchantress who assured me she keeps her clothes on in public.” She snapped the paper open and took a breath.

Vin yanked it from her and held it out to Edmund, waiting as he set the coffees down.

He thought he’d braced himself, but as he read the headline, he knew that no amount of preparation could have eased this shock. And yet…he should have known. His heart seized.

Rallis Enchantress Communes Naked. Park Repaired.

Early this morning, Rallis enchantress Aurora Firenze communed with the goddess through a break in the ever-present clouds that have plagued the territory for a record forty-six days.

Aurora had been a little off on the number, he thought absently. And he had been completely blind. What the hell had he been thinking? He hadn’t been scanning for other mages. No, he couldn’t scan. He’d been drowning in power. But there were no excuses. He hadn’t protected her. He gritted his teeth and continued reading.

The full moon’s bright gleam shined down on her in Goodale Park, the site of one of the Double-Wide terrorist bombs five months ago. Twenty-eight mages lost their lives, including twelve children. Two Nons also died. Since then, the park has languished in ruin—a constant, unavoidable reminder of the tragedy and a sad blight upon a formerly upbeat neighborhood.

While the residents slept, Miss Firenze went to work. Her good deed was witnessed by two teens, an elderly mage suffering from insomnia, as well as by this reporter.

“Damn it. Four mages?” Hot anger shook his control.

Roger Dodd, a ninety-five-year-old resident of the neighborhood, described the scene. “The place was vibrating with the heebie-jeebies. I walk this block every night. Insomnia, you know. Something was wrong in there. I’ve never felt energy like that in Rallis.”

The fissure. Old man Dodd knew what he was talking about.

Mr. Dodd reports that a car pulled up near the fountain at approximately 3:35. The enchantress and Lord Edmund Rallis got out.

“The heir was frowning hard, maybe because it felt so bad around there. The enchantress just looked sad.”

Other witnesses disagreed. Sixteen-year-old David Bellson and seventeen-year-old Christopher Smith didn’t notice the sad expression. “She looked vibin’ hot,” Bellson stated.

According to witnesses, the enchantress climbed up the broken fountain.

“Almost from the moment she climbed up there, everything changed,” Dodd said. “She fixed the energy. Made it like all the rest of the good vibrations in Rallis.”

Edmund skimmed down, dreading the description of her communing ritual.

“She took off her shirt,” Smith stated. “And then her pants. Everything. Until she was naked. It was the best strip show I’ve ever seen.”

“He’s never seen a strip show.” The clarification came from Bellson. “I haven’t either, but I can’t imagine one better than that.”

Edmund skimmed faster, catching the key phrases the witnesses used to describe her…
“divine breasts, round hips, and a bottom that jiggles.”

The newspaper crunched in his hands. “I want that reporter,” he seethed. He rocked back on his heels, roping in his anger like it was a living beast. Damage control. That’s what he needed to focus on. Getting Aurora through this. Then he could smash the reporter’s face. “I have to go.” He needed to get back to a divine, naked enchantress before she got out of bed and break the news gently. If he could fix this by buying up every newspaper in the Republic, he would. But that would take too long. He spun around and reached for the door.

“Your coffees!” Bronte said.

Edmund tucked the paper under his arm and reached down for the cups.

“Before you go,” the senator began, “Vin put a guard on her shop.”

“Pops asked me to,” Vincent corrected.

The senator held Edmund’s gaze. “I figured I’d hold off the gawkers for you. Also, just so you know, the power your enchantress called down makes it impossible to cast a replay spell.”

Edmund narrowed his eyes. He hadn’t thought about that at all. Vibing hells, he needed to find a sense of calm so he could figure all this out. “Did the reporter find a past-caster to replay the scene?”

“I don’t know.” The senator shrugged. “But I happen to know one and I asked her to visit the park. I figured you’d want to cast a cloud over the images if necessary.”

His mother huffed, hands on hips. “I certainly would!”

Edmund nodded at his grandfather in thanks.

“You’re my heir,” the senator replied simply. It was as close to an apology as he’d get from the older man. He knew his grandfather loved him, but he loved the territory more.

His mother put a hand to her forehead. “You know the copycasters are going to be popping out of the spellwork over this one.”

“Right.” Edmund glared with his sarcastic reply. “We’ll likely have a rash of naked women cavorting in public parks, particularly around fountains. I’m glad I have a comfy lawn chair.” He frowned. “I’ll have to see if anyone wants to borrow it.”

“She should have kept her clothes on!” His mother stomped a sharp heel.

“Mother! Aurora has made that haunted park a better place, a happier place for all our mages and Nons, and all you have to say is that she should keep her clothes on?”

“If she’s going to be the lady of this land, then she needs stay clothed in public at all times.”

“I’m sure Aurora would tell you she’d much prefer to stay clothed, but for the good of Rallis mages, she’d make the sacrifice and commune with the universe and its goddess. She’d tell you she’s willing to sacrifice her modesty to renew a former symbol of peace and prosperity and joy that was smothered with sadness and death less than a year ago. Thanks to her, we can heal from the tragedies that have tarnished the trust we must have between our mages and our sponsored Nons. It sounds to me that she’s just the type of lady this land needs. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well said.” She tilted her chin high. “Bring her home and I will help her adjust to the role.”

“No.”

“But Edmund, I can help her.”

Bronte snickered behind his mother and then quickly sobered as she became the victim of the Mad Mother face, the same one he and Vincent were the recipients of on a daily basis growing up.

His mother turned back with a deep breath and held out her hands. “I want to help you, too.” Her voice was sad and lost. “Look at you.”

He braced for another round of insults.

She stepped up to him, smoothing the rough lapels of his worker’s coat. “You’re tackling all the problems of the territory all on your own.” She brushed her fingers over the lines at his temple. “There’s nothing we can do to help you. This isn’t right. It’s not fair. I don’t know what that woman was thinking.” Her voice sharpened. That woman…the High Councilor.

Edmund didn’t know what she was thinking either. Why the vow of silence? That fact that she’d forced it on him was a clue all on its own. He just didn’t know what it meant.

“I’m not alone. I have Aurora.”

She nodded, eyebrows high. “Come home. Bring her with you.”

“She won’t come, and I need to get back.”

“One more thing.” She shuffled her feet. “I’m sorry.” She continued on without a breath. “The rehearsal for the P.U.R.E. rally is this afternoon. Are you going to be there?”

He looked her. Standing there in her scarlet suit…powerful, privileged. It’s who he was, too. He believed in the Republic, in this territory, and in his family, though they didn’t quite believe in him, not with the dark energy he carried. But he’d found a people who didn’t mind his darkness. He’d found Aurora. The lines on his temple didn’t fool him though. He still had to earn the right to stay, and he had to earn Aurora’s trust. He wasn’t going to waste time pretending to be something he could never be.

“No.” He shoved open the door and stepped out.

Aurora held her torch in one hand and the mechanical heart in the other, surrounding both with a cloud of her vibes. She put the finishing touches on the project despite the fact it would never be needed. As she did, she carefully kept her sadness blocked from her vibes. According to Gwyn, the death of the overseer’s wife had been posted in the
Dispatch
’s obituaries, just a few short, generic sentences.

But the truth was Kathryn Ella Wasten had chosen to die of a broken heart because the law deemed it proper.

She wondered if Edmund knew about her death yet.

Aurora had woken up alone, reaching for him. Fear had flashed into her heart…another fissure, another disaster. Nothing short of that would have torn him away. But a scribbled note had floated over the empty pillow next to her.

Summoned. No rescue needed. Stay naked. I’ll bring coffee.

Summoned. She sighed, still annoyed. How many times had she been summoned by the Nobles during her vow there?

She’d been too restless to wait in bed. She’d come to work instead only to discover the sad news. Finishing the heart had given her something to focus on.

In the front room, Gwyn, with her flippant but practical attitude on loss, stood guard as usual in the front room should any customers walk in. This was one activity Aurora could not afford to get caught at.

She had just one last valve to perfect. Those two flaps were some of her finest work. This last bit would secure the delicate valve into position. She sent one miniscule stream of heat from her torch and mixed in her energy, infusing the valve with vibes of the living. She was never sure if it was at this point that she was violating the Law of Natural Physique or if that wouldn’t happen until the device was placed inside someone.

She pulled her vibes back, along with the torch’s fire. It was finished. The dull silver of the oddly shaped organ masked its potential for life. She laid it in the middle of the white cloth spread on her workbench, tucked the cloth’s corners around it, and placed it into its box. She sealed it shut with a lock spell.

She turned to the Hopeless Shelf, where the appliances lived that even she couldn’t fix, a supply of spare parts for healthier gadgets. Placing the box among the blenders and coffee pots, old drills and saws, she cast a simple illusion. The box appeared as a smashed toaster.

Her nerves always got the better of her at this point and sure enough, glitter puffed around her. Hiding her work never let her forget she was breaking the law. She waved it away with both hands and strode out to the front room.

Standing over the desk, Gwyn yanked a blanket over a long lump of dark metal and then straightened with a jerk. A blank expression descended over her face.

“What are you working on?” Aurora strode over with a small smile.