Ilona Andrews: Wildfire

An armored vehicle drove through the hole Romeo had made and stopped. The door opened, Rivera jumped out, and held the passenger door open, holding it deferentially. Brian Sherwood emerged into the light. Same height and build as Edward, broad shoulders, sturdy frame, long limbs. He looked like his brother and at the same time he looked nothing like him.

“Rynda,” he called out. “Oh my God, Rynda. Here you are.”

She turned and glared at him like she saw a snake.

“I missed you so much!” Brian started across the lawn toward his wife. He didn’t know that we were aware of his betrayal.

“Nobody told him?” I murmured.

“No.” The smile on Rogan’s face was frightening.

Rynda rose, her spine perfectly straight, her face iced over, every inch her mother’s daughter.

“Did you miss me?” she asked, her voice as cold as a glacier.

Brian halted. “Yes.”

“I missed you too, Brian. I endured so much while you were gone.”

He took another tentative step forward. “It’s okay. I’m here now. Everything will be okay now.”

“Yes.” Rynda started toward him. “It will. I’m so glad you are here, Brian. Let me share with you everything I’ve been through.”

Magic lashed out of her in a torrent, so potent, I felt it from yards away. Terror, panic, despair, anxiety, worry, crushing sadness, and rage. So much rage. It merely brushed me and I nearly cried just to release the pressure.

Brian shuddered. His mouth gaped open. He crumpled to his knees.

“Stop! Rynda, stop!”

She kept walking, her face merciless. “Why aren’t you running away now, Brian? Are you stressed out yet?”

“Please stop! Please!”

“You wanted to murder me and the children. You wanted us dead. Our children! You should’ve shot me in my sleep, Brian. Because now, I will make you suffer. Feel, husband. Feel every drop.”

Tears streamed down his face. “Stop! Stop, you fucking bitch, stop!”

“No.”

Brian turned bright red, his eyes crazed. He jerked up, his face a furious grimace, and charged at Rynda, his hands stretched out toward her throat. Edward Sherwood lunged in his way, a huge sword in his hands. The blade rose and came down with awful finality. Brian Sherwood crashed to the ground, blood soaking his clothes. Edward raised the sword, thrust it straight down through his brother’s chest, and twisted it with a sharp tug.

Everyone stood completely still.

Edward straightened, his face impassive, like a medieval knight over the body of his enemy. “House Sherwood has resolved its internal conflict,” he said. “We are now whole.”

The arena of trials lay in front of me, a cavernous room with a clear space two hundred feet long and one hundred feet wide at its center, ringed by rows and rows of seats. Bern, Catalina, Arabella, and I stood at its edge. Midway down, a podium was placed to the side, like a referee’s chair. The Keeper of Records stood at it. To the right and left of him, three chairs waited on each side. Six people sat in them, the Primes who served as the arbiters of the trials. One of them was Sylvester Green, the current head of the Assembly. Two seats down from him sat Lenora Jordan, the Harris County District Attorney. She looked surprisingly serene, not peaceful, but imperturbable, as if nothing in this world could get a rise out of her right now. Between the arbiters, flanking the podium, our two witnesses stood, Rogan on one side and Linus Duncan on the other. “You will do fine,” Rogan had told me before walking out there.

I touched the Tear through my T-shirt. I was still wearing it.

My mother, Grandma Frida, and Leon sat on the opposite side in the chairs reserved for friends and family. We had opted for the sealed trials, which meant no audience except for family, and our entire family wouldn’t miss it for the world. Everyone was present, including Grandma Frida, who had a huge smile on her face and a bandage on her arm.

While Lenora’s people had sorted out the arrests of Sturm and his personnel, and first responders had pulled Grandma Frida from the rubble of the wall, Bern had broken the cypher on Olivia’s files. It detailed the entirety of what she knew about the conspiracy: names, details, crimes committed in the name of the cause. We knew everything except for the identity of Caesar. That remained a secret.

Just before the trials, Rogan and I made a deal: we would turn over the information on the conspiracy to Lenora if she put the weight of Houston behind Arabella’s registration. If my sister registered as a Prime, Houston would defend her against federal authorities. Lenora didn’t like it, but she agreed to do it.

Grandmother Victoria’s name was among those listed in Olivia’s files. I had already warned her and I stood by what I said. The files were turned over to Lenora intact and unedited.

It was now all up to the four of us.

“I can’t do this,” Catalina whispered next to me. She took a step back. “I can’t.”

I hugged her and told her the same thing Rogan had told me. “You will do fine.”

“Let us begin,” the Keeper said into a microphone. “The Office of Records calls Nevada Frida Baylor. Present yourself and be tested.”

I walked down to the podium. It was only about a hundred feet, but it felt like a lifetime.

“Declare yourself,” the Keeper of Records said.

“I’m Nevada Frida Baylor. I come to be recognized as an Elenchus and to seek formation of House Baylor.”

“Before we begin, are there any affiliations and alliances to other Houses you wish to declare?”

“Yes. In the event of the formation of House Baylor, House Baylor intends to sign a Mutual Aid Pact with House Harrison.”

“So noted,” the Keeper stated.

“Also, I wish to announce my engagement to Connor Rogan of House Rogan.”

Everyone sat up straighter and looked at Rogan. For the first time since I’d known him, shock showed on Rogan’s face. It was there only for a fleeting second, but I saw it and I would savor it for the rest of my life.

Linus Duncan laughed quietly.

“Has anyone pressured or threatened you into making this engagement?” the Keeper asked.

“No. I agreed to marry Connor Rogan, because I love him.”

“Does House Rogan confirm the engagement?” the Keeper asked.

“Yes,” Rogan said, his face again a neutral mask. “I love Nevada Baylor and want to marry her.”

“So noted,” the Keeper said. “Let us proceed.”

A woman walked into the arena. She was tall and Asian. She looked to be about my mother’s age. She stopped on the other side of the white line drawn on the floor.

“Face your tester,” the Keeper stated.

I walked over and stopped on my side of the white line. The woman raised her hands. Her mind disappeared behind a dense curtain. A truthseeker, using the same trick as Shaffer. But her shield wasn’t quite as dense.

“Nevada Baylor, you must determine truth from lie,” the Keeper stated. “Your tester is a registered Elenchus. Voice your answers only once. If you change your mind, your second answer won’t be counted. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Prepare your magic. Are you ready?” the Keeper asked.

The woman nodded.

I wrapped my magic around her defensive cocoon and began slipping tendrils of it inside. I only needed one to make it through. And there it was.

“Yes,” I said.

“Begin,” the Keeper said.

“ Mein Bruder hat einen Hund ,” the woman said.

My magic buzzed. I had no idea what she said, but it didn’t matter. “Lie.”

The woman blinked, startled. She poured more magic into the cocoon. I fed a little more of mine into the tendrils.