“Can you feel it? Can you hear it? Crows circling, wings slicing. The fruit and the flowers. Dark masked by innocence. Blood of the blood, bone of the bone. Can you feel it?”
“I can now.” Tonia, a hand on Fallon’s arm, went pale as the moon. “I can now. Oh God, oh Jesus. Duncan.”
They flashed together.
“What the hell!”
“Something’s coming.”
Simon rounded on Lana, grabbed her hand. “Don’t even think about going without me. Let me get the rifle, a sidearm.”
“Hurry.” She ran inside with him, shouted for Colin. Pounded up the stairs for the knife she’d carried out of New Hope.
Colin rushed out of his room, sword in hand.
“Get Travis.”
“I’m here. What is it?”
“I’m not sure. Go to Fred’s, tell her something’s coming. Something’s coming to New Hope. Tell Eddie to come, tell him to get everyone he can.” Lana spun to Colin, took his shoulders in her hands. “Stay with the children.”
“Mom—”
“Stay with them, listen to me. Listen. If this gets through us … Keep the children safe, Colin.”
“I will.” He looked at Travis. “We will.”
“I love you.” She sprinted downstairs, grabbed Simon’s hand. “I love you,” she said again, and flashed.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Since they were taking a night off to recharge before hitting the next sites on Fallon’s list, Duncan wandered down toward the community gardens and park. Some of his friends talked about hanging out, playing some music.
He hadn’t had much of a chance to do either, or even think about getting his hands on his girl of the moment, Carlee Jentz. Trouble was, he admitted, he hadn’t much missed getting his hands on Carlee. They’d hung together most of August, into September, but now as October came calling …
He liked her fine—a lot, really. She was just the sort of girl he liked getting his hands on.
Curvy, fun, uncomplicated.
He just needed to unwind, he decided. Fallon kept him wound up, in all sorts of ways.
He liked her fine, too, and holy hell they did good work together. He respected how she got things done. Dealing with the bombs, building an army. He admired her skill with a sword. He’d watched her one night before they’d met for the mission. He’d sat on the roof of the barracks, just to chill, and out she’d come, sword in hand.
She’d conjured three opponents, took them on at the same time. Took them out.
He looked forward to testing his skills against hers in practice one of these days.
But the fact was, she wasn’t anywhere near curvy, she wasn’t a hell of a lot of fun, and she was seriously complicated.
He didn’t know why he wanted to get his hands on her, wanted them on her more than he wanted them on Carlee. Or anybody else.
Maybe it was the power connection, or the blood connection. Maybe it was just that she was different from anyone he’d ever known. Whatever the reason, he knew thinking about her—that way—made him itchy.
So he’d stop thinking about her that way, and for tonight, at all. He’d hang out in the park, listen to music, watch Denzel smoke his guitar.
Denzel handled a guitar—a banjo, even a violin—like he’d been born to play, just like he handled any sort of ball. God knew he handled them better than he did any kind of weapon.
He needed to spend more time with Denzel, improving his skills, tightening up his form. And convincing his friend to focus his talents in some other area. He was never going to be a warrior.
Maybe he’d enlist Petra on that mission, since Denzel was gone, gone, gone over her, and Petra seemed good and stuck on him.
As if thinking about her conjured her, he heard Petra call his name. Turned. Smiling, she walked toward him carrying a box.
“Heading down to the park?” he asked.
“Yeah. I’m meeting Denzel. Is Tonia coming?”
“She’ll be around. She had something to do first.”
“I’ve hardly seen her lately.”
“Lots going on right now.”
“I know. All those new people.” It put a cloud in her eyes. “Anyway. I hope Hannah comes, too.”
She’d latched on to his sisters from the first, Duncan thought. “I think she’s already there. Stalwick’s bringing his keyboard, and they’re hanging a lot lately.”
“Oh, he’s really good! I like music. I like it so much. And it’s a perfect night, isn’t it? Cool, but not cold, all the stars, the moon. Just so perfect.”
“Yeah.” But he felt something, a chill, a twist. Looking up he half expected to see clouds swirl over the moon and stars. “Nothing like music outdoors, and we won’t get that much longer.”
“I can hear them. They’re already playing. Do I look okay?” She stopped, fussed a hand over her hair the way girls did. “Mina really doesn’t like mirrors in the apartment, so I only have a little one in my room.”
“Yeah, you look good.”
She beamed at him, almost bobbled the box.
“Whatcha got there? Smells sweet.”
“It should. Cupcakes. I worked in the community kitchen today, and got permission to make cupcakes for tonight.”
“I was in there today. Didn’t see you.”
“You must’ve come in during one of my breaks. Here, try one. I really hope I did them right.”
“They look right.” He glanced in the box at the swirling peaks of white frosting sprinkled with color and texture. “Fancy. What kind?”
“I think they’re from one of Mrs. Swift’s recipes. Yellow cake with a raspberry filling and whipped cream icing garnished with wild violets.”
He lifted his eyes to hers—big, innocent blue. A shy, hopeful smile. “Fruit and flowers,” he said.
“That’s right. I hope they taste as good as they look.”
She held the box out, stood smiling with the faerie lights of the park and gardens glowing at her back, with music winding through the air. With the moon, full and white, showering over her.
He took the box and, for an instant, just a finger snap, saw the dark glee in her eyes.
Keeping his eyes on hers, Duncan flipped the box over. The pretty cupcakes hit the ground, and oily black oozed out while the bits of violets turned to tiny, slithering snakes.
Petra laughed. “Now look what you’ve done.”
“Hey, Dunc! You trying to make time with my girl?”
The sound of Denzel’s voice turned his blood cold. “Stay back! Get everybody out.”
“What the what, man?”
As Petra laughed again, Duncan struck out.
She moved fast, faster than he’d prepared for. And had Denzel as a shield in front of her, had a thin black blade pressed to his heart.
“I can’t move.” Denzel choked the words out. “Dunc, I can’t move. Petra?”
“Let him go. You’re not interested in him.”
“But you are, and that’s enough. Now if you’d fallen for me, as planned, I wouldn’t have had to put up with him. Wasn’t I pretty enough for you, Dunc? Sweet enough? Helpless enough?”
“This is because I didn’t go for you?”
“Oh, please. You’re just a means to an end. You and your idiot sisters.”
The music still played, voices still sang. Had she put up some sort of barrier, or were they still just far enough away?
How could he use it?
“Right from the start then. But this isn’t from the cult shit. You got black magick going—it stinks up the air.” In the hope of keeping her focused only on him, Duncan flicked his fingers, shot light, burned the slithering snakes, the oozing poison to ash. “Yeah, that’s a smell. So it’s not from the cult.”
“Another means to an end. I spent almost two weeks in that sty.”
“ ‘Weeks’?”
“Your power’s so pale and weak you can’t do mind illusion? Anyone who survived the attack would swear I’d been there nearly two years. Even two weeks was disgusting. Of course, I did take little breaks, have little bits of fun. The man you watched burn—and wasn’t that a lovely light?—only thought he was my father because I made him think it. Just as I arranged for your pitiful rescue group and the PWs to attack that night.”