Enchanter's Echo (32 page)

He hadn’t planned on sitting with his guests. The dozen Pipers he’d convinced to attend the P.U.R.E. rally sat motionless and tense, four seats wide and three rows deep. The amphitheater was nearly full, the seats around him all taken, except the one Izzy had just emptied.

Edmund surveyed the modular stage, where he was supposed to be. It had been taken apart until it resembled a simple, floating platform supported by a spell. The staircases, one at each corner, were only for access to the stage, not for support. The simplicity and openness was a deliberate action on P.U.R.E.’s part. They hoped it would symbolize the everyday, common mage—the target audience for today’s performance.

Despite the chatter of the crowd and Izzy’s friendliness, his heart and mind were encased in loneliness.

He hadn’t seen her in seven days. Talking to her through her spells four days ago didn’t count. He hadn’t been able to make out her face, not exactly, though he’d known right where she was. Her power called out to his more than ever. In fact, if he believed his senses, he’d say she was here now.

A dark flame of hope sparked to life.

He glanced down the long lines of people in the seats, searching for her. The crowd here was mostly second families, other than his Drainpipe guests.

“Will the enchantress be there?” each of them had asked when he’d issued their invitations.

He hadn’t even needed to swallow his pride to answer no, but that he’d do anything to make that happen.

They’d offered encouragement. “You’ll win her over. You’re a Piper at heart, Mr. Monday. We all know that. Since she’s a Piper at heart, too, she’ll figure it out.” In some version or another, it was what they’d all said. He hoped they were right.

Izzy still watched him, waiting for his answer. She had no idea of the weightiness of her casual offer.

Accept and declare alliance with the people.
It wasn’t the people he’d been raised to ally with.

He sat down and looked up at the stage that loomed over him from his front row seat. No, he thought, this wasn’t right. The knowledge was like a mage light bursting to life in his mind and shining on the truth. He couldn’t make a difference as one of the masses. He needed to be leading from up there. If that made him a Mayflower elitist, well…blood will tell.

By now, the family was backstage. He was certain his mother was freaking out, though he’d told the senator where he’d be. After all, Edmund couldn’t invite guests and not be present to greet them.

The host took the podium. “Ladies and gentlemages, we are so excited to finally gather here to celebrate what it truly means to be a member of this Republic. Months ago, our country was targeted by…”

Edmund tuned out, searching for Aurora instead, reaching for her energy with his. But she wasn’t among the crowd near him and short of walking up and down the rows, he wasn’t going to find her. Not from this vantage point.

Her vibes pulsed at him relentlessly. He closed his eyes and focused. She was in front of him, almost as if she were backstage. Maybe to his left.... He lost his focus as his mother tugged on his energy with a yank. He mentally flicked her away, but her touch told him that Aurora wasn’t next to his mother. His enchantress was lower, as if beneath the giant structure.

“…help me welcome Senator Burr Rallis.”

The crowd applauded as his grandfather led the procession of his family. They halted in their rehearsed places, his grandfather at the podium, everyone else to stage left. Edmund was supposed to be number four in line, next to Bronte.

His family halted in their rehearsed places. With a wave to Izzy, Edmund stood and made his own entrance. He paced to the stage’s side stairs that were guarded by two military mages. The men stepped to the side to let him pass and Edmund climbed to the stage. His grandfather shook his head, giving him an exasperated smile that clearly asked
what the hell are you doing
. The audience loved it. Laughter rang out.

“You may know my grandson,” the senator began, spelling his voice to sound among the crowd as he gestured to Edmund. The small section of Drainpipers cheered louder than any other group.

“I always know when Edmund is out among the people because the petitioner line outside my office drops off to nothing. I get a little lonely.”

Rarely was his grandfather so informal with the commoners.

“From the depth of his mage power to the breadth of his soul, my grandson, like my son, is everything I want your future senator to be.” The senator looked him in the eye. “And I think he has something to say.”

His grandfather crooked an eyebrow at him. Edmund crooked his own back, taking up the gauntlet the senator had just thrown since he had no other choice. He didn’t have a speech planned that was for damn sure. The only words he had were the truths he’d discovered over the last few days. Risky words, but someone needed to say them.

He strode past the older man to stand in front of the podium and eyed the waiting audience. He put his hands in his pants pockets, confident. He could work a crowd...had since he was a kid, though this was different than usual. His supply of laughs and charm was in short supply, dried up from a week of worry and heartache.

“He’s right. I do have something to say, though I’m not quite sure how he knows this.” He sauntered over to the far side of the stage. Aurora’s vibes decreased in this direction.

“You might not realize this, but we rehearsed this rally and this is not the way it was supposed to go. Kind of like life really. Never goes the way you think it will. You see, a while ago, I met this girl.”

The crowd started to applaud, louder and louder. Wolf calls mixed in.

Edmund held up his hands. The audience quieted. He held their attention. He was strong here, capable of leading the changes so many people needed.

He paced back and forth slowly, making the stage his. It was a cover for his search for her. “Aurora has a heart so kind that I can’t say no to anything she asks. And really, you’d think it would work the other way, too. That a kind heart could never say no to something I want, but she can. She says no to me all the time.”

Laughter.

He smiled back and paced. “Only three other territories in the Republic have enchantresses. They had to offer those ladies a lot of privileges and riches to get them to stay. But our Aurora is here because of love.”

“Ahh.” The sound resounded through the theater.

He shook his head, denying their sentiment. “I wish I could say it was because she loved me…”

The admission struck with a sharp jab, but the soft touch of her vibes staunched the pain. She’d reached out, a quick caress of energy, timid and fleeting. He had to take a breath before he could continue.

“But really it’s because of the friends she’s made into her family. Light and dark, young and old. They run the gamut. I’ve met a few of them. As I first got to know her, her love and respect for the entire spectrum of mage power from the darkest of the dark to the brightest light baffled me. How could she, the lightest…the fairest of them all, love and admire the dark?

“Isn’t best to ignore them? To hide them? Just as we yank up the vibe violets that grow in our yards when we have a dark mage living in our houses. We love mage power, but only a certain kind of power.”

He paced to the edge of the stage. “Our ancestors founded this country as a place where magekind could practice our crafts and use our energy to their full potential. Instead we brought our own prejudices with us. This isn’t a new story. It’s been playing out for four hundred years. But it’s time to change it. The brave people among us, like Aurora, have started, standing up for the dark and the wrongly rejected. She makes me want to be brave, too.”

He took a breath. “Common knowledge states that metallist mages are the darkest of the dark, but they’re not. I am.” He waited out the gasps. “My true mage power is so dark that I can’t use it without Aurora to counterbalance it. I’m lucky though. I can steer clear of my true power’s potential and use vibes for other spells. Many dark mages can’t. And so they refuse to use their gifts or others refuse to let them.”

He paced over to the other side. Damn it, she was over here somewhere. He walked backward, deeper onto the outdoor stage. He looked down. A cheap, small sports car sat on the access road, just beside the platform. The convertible roof was down despite the cold temperatures.

Aurora leaned back against the driver’s seat, eyes closed, red hair sprayed wide against the back of the leather seat. At his long pause, she opened her eyes. Their green stared back at him. He hadn’t seen them in seven days. She was still pale, her lips not yet their true color.

He turned back to his restless audience, but stayed on her side of the stage, nearer the edge than was appropriate for a performance, but he didn’t want to leave her. She might disappear.

“The time for fear is over. It’s time to be brave. Every one of us. Whatever power you have, you have a duty to accept and harness your unique gifts for the betterment of the Republic, this territory, your homes, and for yourself.”

A quiet round of applause built into a roar. The audience came to their feet, stomping and cheering so loudly the amphitheater vibrated. A force slammed into his chest with such fury it changed him into nothing but a burning mass of pain. From somewhere in the distance, joy turned to terror, screams replaced cheers.

Edmund looked down at her.

He closed his eyes.

And fell.

* * * *

Aurora listened to Edmund’s voice. She could imagine his expression from his friendly open tone. His public persona was firmly in place, but that didn’t stop her from sinking into his words.

“I wish I could say it was because she loved me,” he said from his high perch.

She felt the pain in those words and reached out on automatic, touching his vibes with hers, and pulling back just as quickly. She loved him. But she couldn’t have him. Dropping her head back against the seat, she listened to his speech with closed eyes, trying to blot out the sadness. Instead, she willed his low voice to wrap around her like a blanket, comforting and tender. After a week of her sickened vibes stabbing at her with every breath, she craved his touch.

Her mage energy had recovered for the most part. She didn’t think her heart ever would. Taking her snow-buried car out to spy on him had been a wild hare in her brain, but after being sick for so long—or maybe it was effects of the heartache—only wild hares were left in her mind.

Bull had helped her clean off her patchwork car that was ugly on the outside, but its engine was a beauty. He’d even gone so far as to stuff her head in her hat.

“Why are you helping?” she’d asked as he opened her car door.

“Because I’ve spent seven days watching him watch you. When he’s not shoveling or talking to people, or setting dormant protection spells, he stands in front of the burn barrel and gazes at your tower like a sad, sick puppy. He’s crazy in love with you. Now go.”

“Bull, he can’t stay.” Her mouth wobbled with the words, fighting against saying them. She lifted her hands to her ears without thought, as if some part of her couldn’t stand to hear them.

His fighting mask descended—blank and dark. “He has to stay. You’re gonna be late. Get going before you miss the whole show.” He put his meaty hand on her head and gave her a push inside the car.

Just as she didn’t have the strength to argue with Bull, she didn’t have the strength to brave the crowd. She sat with the car’s top down in the place her father used to take her to hear the symphony. No one had closed off the back road.

She opened her eyes. He stood at the edge, staring down at her. Exhaustion creased his face. She wanted to brush her hands over his cheeks, to sprinkle his sadness with glittery vibes. But the chasm that separated them could not be bridged with love.

He turned back to his audience, though he didn’t move from the stage’s back edge. He stayed with her. “You have a duty to harness your unique gifts for the betterment of the Republic….”

Oh, she’d done that beyond his imagination. Despite all his brave words, he didn’t understand what he was saying. If he found out how she’d harnessed her gifts, he wouldn’t let her live, or Lily or Tera or Izzy. “Goddess, let him see the good in it,” she whispered the words aloud, picturing him with Lily. Just as quickly, she blew away the image.

A noise to her right drew her attention to a small stand of scraggly city trees. Shiny metal glimmered in the reflected light of the snow. She opened her sense to read the mage energy there and received nothing but a faint vibration.

It happened so fast...the shiver of dead branches, the lightning flash of silver shooting through the air, a heavy thump against the side of the car. Then Edmund’s stumble, the arrow protruding from his chest.

He fell.

She grabbed whatever spell she could summon in a blink to soften his landing against the car. White rose petals fell in a blizzard piling high. They puffed in a blinding cloud as his limp body made impact. The tiny backseat was no place for a man his size. He lay in a ball on his side, the arrow pointing between the two front seats. His life energy receded like ashes blowing in the wind. She reached for it, but her hands could not touch it.

“Edmund!”

The deep shout vibrated into her bones. She wrenched around to see the fury in the senator’s eyes as he leaned over the edge of the stage. Pushing a handful of vibes into the engine, she jerked the car into gear, spinning back as a flood of sentries catapulted off the stage.

She shot down the lane, racing away from the hell-bent sentries. Their vibes stretched out to her car’s engine, trying to shut it down. She countered their spells with her own vibes, speeding out of reach. She shifted her energy to twine with Edmund’s, lending him strength. His had faded to almost nothing, leaving her little to hold on to.

She reached for the energy of his heart. She knew all about the mechanics of pumps, but it was common sense that they wouldn’t work with an arrow shot through them, so she cast a spell to circulate Edmund’s blood. She became his heart.