Huntress, Black Dawn, Witchlight (11 page)

“All right! I know, already!” Morgead yelled, and Jez realized she was babbling. She shut up.

Morgead took a breath and put his hand down. “She’s not it. I was wrong. I made a bad mistake. Okay?”

“Okay.” Jez felt calmer now. “So can you please wipe her?”

“Yes! I’m doing it!” Morgead put his hands on Iona’s slender shoulders. “Look, kid, I’m—sorry. I never thought you’d—you know, jump like that.”

Iona didn’t say anything. If he wanted forgiveness, he wasn’t getting it.

He took a deep breath and went on. “This has been a pretty rotten day, hasn’t it? So why don’t you just forget all about it, and before you know it, you’ll be home.”

Jez could feel him reach out with his mind, touching the child’s consciousness with his Power. Iona’s eyes shifted, she looked at Jez uncertainly.

“It’s okay,” Jez whispered. “It won’t hurt.” She hung on to Iona’s gaze, trying to comfort her as Morgead’s suggestions took hold.

“You don’t ever have to remember this,” Morgead said, his voice soothing now. Gentle. “So why don’t you just go to sleep? You can have a little nap…and when you wake up, you’ll be home.”

Iona’s eyelids were closing. At the last possible second she gave Jez a tiny sleepy smile—just the barest change of expression, but it seemed to ease the tightness in Jez’s chest. And then Iona’s lashes were lying heavy on her cheeks and her breathing was deep and regular.

Jez sat up and gently put the sleeping child on the sidewalk. She smoothed back one stray pigtail and watched the little chest rise and fall a couple of times. Then she looked up at Morgead.

“Thanks.”

He shrugged, exhaling sharply. “It was the least I could do.” Then he gave her an odd glance.

Jez thought of it at the same instant. She was the one so concerned about the child—why had she asked Morgead to wipe her memory?

Because I can’t do it, she thought dryly. Out loud she said, “I’m really kind of tired, after everything that’s happened today. I don’t have much Power left.”

“Yeah…” But his green eyes were slightly narrowed, searching.

“Plus, I hurt.” Jez stretched, gingerly testing her muscles, feeling every part of her protest.

The searching look vanished instantly. Morgead leaned forward and began to go over her with light, expert fingers, his eyes worried.

“Can you move everything? What about your legs? Do you feel numb anywhere?”

“I can move everything, and I only wish I felt numb somewhere.”

“Jez—I’m sorry.” He blurted it out as awkwardly as he had to the child. “I didn’t mean…I mean, this just hasn’t turned
out the way I planned. The kid getting hurt—you getting hurt. It just wasn’t what I had in mind.”

The kid getting hurt? Jez thought. Don’t tell me you care about that.

But there was no reason for Morgead to lie. And he did look unhappy—probably more unhappy than Jez had ever seen him. His eyes were still all pupil, as if he were scared.

“I’m not hurt,” Jez said. It was all she could think of. She felt dizzy suddenly—uncertain and a little giddy, as if she were still tumbling off the roof.

“Yes, you are.” He said it with automatic stubbornness, as if it were one of their arguments. But his hand reached out to touch her cheek.

The one that had been hit by burning debris. It hurt, but Morgead was touching so lightly…. Coolness seemed to flow from his fingers, seeping into the burn and making it feel better.

Jez gasped. “Morgead—what are you doing?”

“Giving you some Power. You’re low and you need it.”

Giving her Power? She’d never heard of such a thing. But he was
doing
it. She could feel her skin healing itself faster, could feel his strength pour into her.

It was a strange sensation. It made her shiver inwardly.

“Morgead…”

His eyes were fixed on her face. And suddenly they were all Jez could see; the rest of the world was a blur. All she could
hear was the soft catch in his breath; all she could feel was the gentleness of his touch.

“Jez…”

They were leaning toward each other, or falling. It was that silver thread between them, shortening, pulling. They had nothing to grab on to but each other. And then Morgead’s arms were around her and she felt his warm mouth touch hers.

T
he kiss was warm and sweet. Not frightening. Jez felt herself relax in Morgead’s arms before she knew what she was doing. His heart was beating so fast against hers. She felt dizzy, but safe, too; a wonderful feeling.

But the approach of his mind was another thing. It was just like the first time: that terrible, irresistible pull trying to suck her soul out and mix it with Morgead’s until they were both one person. Until he knew her every secret and she had no place to hide.

And the worst thing was that she knew it wasn’t Morgead doing it. It was that outside force doing it to both of them, carrying them along helplessly.

Whether we want it or not. And we
don’t
want it, Jez told herself desperately. We both hate it. Neither of us wants to share our souls….

But then why was he still holding her, still kissing her? And why was she letting him?

At that instant she felt his mind touch hers, reaching through the smoke screen of protection she’d thrown around herself to brush her thoughts as lightly as a moth’s wing. She recognized Morgead’s essence in it; she could feel his soul, dark and bright and full of fierce emotion for her. He was opening himself to her; not trying to fight this or even holding back. He was going farther than the pull forced him to, giving himself to her freely….

It was a gift that sent her reeling. And she couldn’t resist it. Her mind flowed out of its own accord to touch his, tendrils of thought wrapping around his gratefully. The shock of pleasure when she let it happen was frightening—except that she couldn’t be frightened anymore, not now.

And then she felt him respond, felt his happiness, felt his thoughts enfolding hers, holding her mind as gently as his arms held her body. And white light exploded behind her eyes….

Jez! Morgead! What’s wrong with you two?

The thought was foreign, cold, and unwanted. It broke into Jez’s warm little world and rattled around annoyingly. Jez tried to push it away.

Hey, look; I’m just trying to help. If you guys are alive, then, like give us a sign, okay?

Morgead made a sound like a mental groan.
It’s Val. I have to kill him.

I’m going to help,
Jez told him. Then something occurred to her.
Oh—wait. Where are we…?

It was a good question. A weird but necessary question. It took them a moment to untangle their thoughts from each other and rise back to the real world.

Where they seemed to be sitting under the ruins of a redbud tree, arms around each other, Jez’s head on Morgead’s shoulder, Morgead’s face pressed into Jez’s hair.

At least we weren’t still kissing, Jez thought abstractedly. She could feel herself flushing scarlet. The rest of the gang was standing around them, looking down with worried expressions.

“What do you guys want?” Morgead said brusquely.

“What do we
want
?” Raven leaned forward, dark hair swinging. Jez actually saw both her midnight blue eyes underneath. “You three jumped off the roof just as the fire got out of control. We put it out and came down to see if you were still alive—and then we find you here hanging on to each other and totally out of it. And you want to know what we
want
? We want to know if you’re
okay.
”

“We’re fine,” Morgead said. He didn’t say anything more, and Jez understood. Neither of them had any desire to talk about it in front of other people. That could wait until they were alone, until it was the right time.

They didn’t need to express this to each other. Jez simply knew, and knew that he knew.

“What about
her
?” Thistle pointed to Iona, still asleep on the sidewalk.

Jez was already moving to the child. She checked the little body over, noted the even breathing and the peaceful expression.

“She’s fine, too,” she said, settling back. She held Thistle’s gaze. “No thanks to you.”

Thistle’s cheeks were pink. She looked angry, embarrassed, and defensive. “She’s just a human.”

“She’s a kid!” Morgead yelled, shooting up to his feet. He towered over Thistle, who suddenly looked very small. “Which
you’re
not,” he went on unsympathetically. “You’re just a—a sixteen-year-old Shirley Temple-wannabe.”

“All right, both of you!” Jez said sharply. She waited until they shut up and looked at her before continuing. “You—be quiet and let me take care of things,” she said to Morgead. “And
you
—if you ever try to hurt a kid again, I’ll knock your head off.” This to Thistle, who opened her mouth, but then shut it again without speaking.

Jez nodded. “Okay, that’s settled. Now we’ve got to get this girl home.”

Val stared at her. “Home?”

“Yeah, Val.” Jez picked the child up. “In case you missed something, she’s not the Wild Power.”

“But…” Val wriggled his broad shoulders uncomfortably and looked at Morgead. “You mean you were wrong?”

“There’s a first time for everything, right?” Morgead glared at him.

“But, then—who
is
the Wild Power?” Raven put in quietly.

“Who knows?” It was the first time Pierce had spoken, and his voice was low and distantly amused.

Jez glanced at him. His blond hair glinted in the red light of the sunset, and his dark eyes were mocking.

I really don’t think I like you much, she thought.

But of course he was right. “If this kid isn’t the one—well, I guess it could have been anybody at the scene,” she said slowly. “Anybody worried enough to want to save her. One of the firefighters, a neighbor—anybody.”

“Assuming the blue flash on the tape really was evidence of a Wild Power,” Pierce said.

“I think it was.” Jez glanced at Morgead. “It sure looked like blue fire. And it certainly was some kind of Power.”

“And Grandma Harman dreamed about the Wild Power being in San Francisco,” Morgead added. “It all fits too well.” He looked at Jez slyly. “But it couldn’t have been anybody at the scene, you know.”

“Why not?”

“Because of what you said about that line in the prophecy. ‘Born in the year of the blind Maiden’s vision.’ That means it has to be somebody born less than eighteen years ago. Before that, Aradia couldn’t have visions because she wasn’t alive.”

Goddess, I’m slow today, Jez thought. I should have
thought of that. She gave him a wry nod of respect and he returned it with a grin. Not maliciously.

“It’s still not much to go on,” Raven said in her pragmatic way. “But don’t you think we should go back inside to discuss it? Somebody’s going to come along eventually and see us with an unconscious kid.”

“Good point,” Jez said. “But I’m not going up with you. I’m taking the kid home.”

“Me, too,” Morgead said. Jez glanced at him; he had his stubborn expression on.

“Okay, but just us. Two motorcycles are going to be conspicuous enough.” She turned to Raven. “The rest of you can do what you want tonight; try to figure out who the Wild Power is or whatever. We’ll meet again tomorrow and see what we’ve come up with.”

“Why wait?” Val said. “It’s only dusk. We could meet tonight—”

“I’m tired,” Jez cut in. “It’s enough for the day.” And Goddess knows how I’m going to explain being gone
this
long to Aunt Nan, she thought wearily. Not to mention missing school.

Pierce was watching her with an odd expression. “So you’ll have to report to Hunter that we failed,” he said, and there was a probing tone in his voice that Jez didn’t like.

“Yeah, I’ll tell him you screwed up,” she said heavily. “But that we still have some options. Unless you’d rather I just
tell him that you’re all idiots and not worth giving a second chance.” She kept looking at Pierce until he looked away.

When she turned to Morgead he was scowling, but he didn’t say anything. He silently started toward their bikes.

They couldn’t talk while they were riding. Jez was too full of her own thoughts anyway.

She was finally free to consider those last minutes with Morgead.

It had been…amazing. Electrifying. But also enlightening.

She knew now what had happened to them, what was happening. He had been right. It was the soulmate principle.

So we’re soulmates. Morgead and I. After all our fighting and challenging each other and everything. It’s so strange, but in a way it makes sense, too….

And it’s really a pity that even if we both survive the next week or so, we’re never going to see each other again.

The thought came from some deep part of her that was utterly heartless and practical and saw everything in the cold light of truth.

Because unfortunately the universe had picked the wrong person for Jez to be soulmates with. It had picked one that would hate her and want to kill her once he realized what she really was.

Bad mistake, universe, Jez thought, biting down on a laugh. She realized, dimly, that she was verging on being hysterical.

It had been such a long day, and she was so tired, and so hurt, and she’d failed in her mission, and now Morgead was in love with her, but there was just no hope. Small wonder she was punchy and an emotional wreck. She was lucky not to be falling off her bike.

There really was no hope. Even in that last encounter, even when Morgead had been revealing his soul to her, Jez had managed to keep her own secrets buried. He didn’t know. He had no idea that the girl he was in love with was vermin. Was working with Circle Daybreak. Was lying to him to steal the Wild Power out from under his nose and end the hopes of the vampires for a world without humans.

He was ambitious, she had always known that. All he’d ever cared about was climbing higher and getting more power. She’d promised him a position in the new world order—while all the time she was working as hard as she could to make sure that the new world order never came.

He would never forgive that deception. He would never even be able to understand why she had done it.

So you have to forget about him, the cold-and-practical part of her mind said quietly. And there was nothing inside Jez that even tried to argue.

It was dark by the time they reached the Marina district. As they approached the housing project, Jez saw flashing lights ahead.

Police car lights. Well, that wasn’t unexpected. Iona’s
mother would have notified them by now. Jez just hoped she wasn’t too worried….

Idiot! her mind said sarcastically. How worried do you expect her to be, with it getting dark and her eight-year-old missing?

She turned into an alley and Morgead followed her.

“We’ll have to do a drive-by,” she said over the thrum of the engines. “Drop her by the police cars and then shoot out of there. They’ll probably chase us. Are you up for it?”

He nodded. “We should go separate ways. That’ll make it harder for them to catch us.”

“Right. You go on home once you lose them. So will I.”

She couldn’t see his features clearly in the dark alley, but she knew he was looking at her. “So will you? Go home?”

“I mean I’ll go to the place where I’m staying.”

She expected him to ask about that, try to find out where it was, what she was doing. He didn’t. Instead he said, “Do you have to?”

She blinked at him, startled. Then she frowned. “Yes, I have to. I
want
to. I’m tired, Morgead, and anyway I’m not ready to be spending the night with a guy.”

“I didn’t mean
that
—”

Jez waved a hand. “I know. I’m sorry. But I’m still tired, and—” And I’ve got other responsibilities that you don’t understand. And if I stick around you any longer, while I’m this tired, I’m afraid that you’re going to find out what they are.

“And you’re still mad,” he said bleakly.

“I’m not mad—”

“Or disgusted or whatever.”

What was he talking about? “I’m just tired,” she said firmly. “Now let’s drop the kid off, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“I—” He let out his breath violently. “All right.”

Jez didn’t waste any more time. She unzipped her jacket, which had been holding Iona firmly against her. Then she sped out into the street.

One block, two blocks. And now she was right beside the dark and deserted playground, and now she was almost level with the police cars. There were several officers standing around talking, and several other bystanders who might be neighbors.

Jez targeted one of the neighbors.

She swooped in toward the woman, who was on the outside edge of the sidewalk. She came up fast, then hit the brakes.

“Hey,” she said. “Here.”

The woman turned around and her jaw dropped. Jez didn’t hesitate, just bundled Iona into her arms. The woman grabbed the child’s weight automatically.

“Give her to her mom, okay?”

And then Jez was roaring out and away. She could hear Morgead behind her, and shouts from the housing project. Then a police siren.

She glanced back. Morgead was just turning on a side street. He waved once at her, and then he was speeding off.

Jez could hear more sirens now. She twisted the throttle and headed for the Bay Bridge.

At least a pursuit was something she could enjoy.

When she finally shook the police cars tailing her, she turned toward Clayton. She would have been worried about what her aunt and uncle were going to say if she hadn’t already been too worried about Iona.

She’ll be all right, she told herself. She shouldn’t remember anything, and her mom will take care of her.

But Jez couldn’t help but feel guilty…and just plain sad. There was some sort of bond between her and the child. She felt—responsible for her, and not just because she’d kidnapped and terrorized her.

Nobody should have to grow up in that kind of place. I may have run around on the streets when I was little, but at least I had Uncle Bracken, and a nice home to go to if I wanted. Iona—she doesn’t even have a safe playground.

I should do something for her, but what can I do that would matter?

I don’t know; maybe I can visit her sometime. Maybe I can buy her a plant….

There weren’t any easy answers, and she was drawing up to a neat yellow frame house.