Ilona Andrews: Magic Rises

Ten minutes later we were hauled onto the deck of the Rush . Andrea sat me down gently by the cabin. I leaned against the wall. Curran lay down next to me. His legs didn’t look right. They would have to be rebroken. My bones hurt just thinking about it.

Derek rested on his stomach, his back covered with burns. Keira was bloody. Eduardo’s whole body was covered with soot and burns. Mahon cradled George, tears in his eyes. Her arm was missing. Shit.

“It will be fine, Dad,” she told him.

“What will I tell your mother . . .”

“You will tell her that I saved a woman during childbirth.” George glanced to the length of sailing canvas where Desandra curled with two naked babies.

Barabas asked me quietly, “What about Desandra?”

“What about her? Unless she wants us to drop her off somewhere, we’re taking her with us. Where else is she going to go?”

Everyone was bloody, beat up, and grieving.

“Finally,” Saiman said. “We can be under way.”

Christopher came to stand by me and smiled.

The Rush turned, picked up speed, and slid out of the harbor. The mountains receded.

I looked at the gathering of metal drums that sat near the nose of the ship, secured by ropes. At least we had done it. At least we got the panacea. Maddie wouldn’t have to die. Aunt B would never see her grandchildren, but at least, if Raphael and Andrea had any babies, they wouldn’t—

“Look!” Raphael called, pointing north.

A fleet of ships anchored behind the curve of the harbor. Six large vessels, the biggest longer than the Rush . They flew the Iron Dog banner.

“Hold your breath,” Saiman murmured next to me.

The Rush glided across the sea.

A minute passed. Another. The air grew thick with tension.

We turned again and sped across the blue waves. Hugh’s fleet disappeared from view. They’d let us go. They must not have known what happened.

Doolittle rolled into view. He sat in an old wheelchair. Did Saiman actually get it for him? How unlike him.

Doolittle cleared his throat. “Someone tampered with the drums.”

Curran set up. “What?”

“Someone tampered with the panacea drums,” Doolittle said. “The seals are broken.”

Barabas jerked the lid off the nearest drum, thrust his hand in, and recoiled. “Powdered silver.”

“And arsenic,” Doolittle said.

“All of it?” Curran asked.

Doolittle’s eyes were ashen. “Every barrel.”

God damn it, Hugh.

“How?” Andrea asked. “How did they get on board? I thought you had checked the barrels after they were loaded.”

“I did,” Doolittle said. “And I had personally sealed each one. Saiman had posted guards.”

Saiman. Of course.

Curran surged to his feet, grabbed Saiman by the throat, and jerked him up. Saiman’s feet left the deck.

“You!” Curran snarled. “You let d’Ambray poison it.”

Saiman made no move to resist.

Curran hurled him across the deck. Saiman hit the cabin with his back and stood up. “Rage all you want,” he said. “I didn’t have a choice. The contract we signed obligates me to do everything in my power to maintain your safety. It was made abundantly clear to me that sacrificing the panacea was the only way to ensure your survival. Those ships would’ve never let us go. I did what I had to do so we could all go home.”

Curran swayed on his feet, his eyes pure gold.

“Let it go,” I said. “Let it go, honey. It’s over.”

Curran closed his eyes and lay back down. He didn’t bother with threats and promises. They would do no good now.

“So it’s all for nothing?” Andrea said, her voice too high. “Aunt B died for nothing?”

Raphael smashed his fist into the drum, denting it. Eduardo swore. Keira screamed, a sound of pure frustration.

I couldn’t take it. I covered my face.

All for nothing. Aunt B would never see her grandchildren for nothing. Doolittle’s paralysis, George’s arm, Curran’s legs, all for nothing.

Tears wet my fingers. I realized I finally was crying.

“Mistress?” Cold fingers touched my hands, gently. “Mistress?”

I forced my hands from my face. I couldn’t even talk.

Christopher was looking at me, his face concerned. “Please don’t cry. Please.”

I couldn’t help it. The tears just kept rolling.

“Please don’t cry. Here.” He pulled the chalk from my spare belt hugging his waist and began drawing a complicated glyph on the deck. “I will make more. I will make more panacea right now.” He started pulling herbs out of the pouches. “I will make as much as you want. Just please don’t cry.”

Two hours later we had our first batch of panacea. Doolittle tested it and said it was the strongest he had ever seen.

The October night was warm, but the balcony from our living room at the top floor of the Keep was high enough for a nice cool breeze. I hid on the balcony. It’d been a long day. The new greenhouse was finally finished, and I’d spent the day digging in the dirt and planting the herbs required for panacea. It was cheaper than trying to buy them in large quantities. Learning to make it had proved to be a lot harder than expected. I had finally managed some passable results, but the two medmages Christopher was training had a hard time. We would get it. It just took time and practice.

We still didn’t know exactly what Christopher had done for Hugh or how he’d ended up there. He maintained that he took care of Hugh’s books, but I’d seen him in a lab, and the way he handled herbs and equipment telegraphed years of practice. If he wasn’t in the lab, he was somewhere outside, usually high up. We finally persuaded him that he couldn’t fly, but he loved sitting on the walls in some sunny, hidden spot, reading a book.

Below me in the Keep’s courtyard, music played and the teenage members of the Pack were doing their best to follow the beat. Somewhere in the crowd Maddie and Julie danced. Or rather Maddie danced and Julie played along, waiting to catch her friend if she fell down. The forced coma had wreaked havoc on Maddie’s musculature. It took two weeks after we administered the panacea before she could move. She still used a wheelchair on occasion. The other day I caught her and Doolittle holding brooms and ramming each other with their wheelchairs in the hallways. Apparently they were having a joust.

Doolittle was probably down there too, listening to the music and complaining about the noise. Being in a chair didn’t seem to slow him down. George had fared worse. Her arm reattachment didn’t take. For whatever reason, her body rejected the limb, even after Doolittle reattached it for the second time aboard the Rush . The arm was gone now. George had to learn how to use her left hand for everything, and it drove her up the wall. Desandra was helping her. She had adapted well. Eventually the fact that one of her children was a lamassu would have to be dealt with, but for now everyone was ignoring it. There was some friction in the Wolf Clan as to where she would fit into the Clan hierarchy, and when Jennifer attempted to chastise Desandra in her very formal way, Desandra told her to cool her tits. Every time I thought about it, I laughed.

We buried Aunt B on a sunny hill behind the Bouda House. There was no body in the grave, just the things she had taken with her on the trip. I came to visit her every other week. The left tower of the Keep was named after her. That was where the kids stayed when they had to be treated with panacea. I never thought I would miss her, but I did.

Curran stepped out on the balcony and sat next to me. I leaned against him, and he put his arm around me.