Fracture (The Machinists) (34 page)

A fireball shot past Allyn’s head, singeing the tips of his hair.

Idiot! Pay attention!

Searing pain shot up his leg. His right leg was smoldering, and the pant leg was still on fire. Allyn rolled it in the moist earth, patting the fire out. Under the remains of his pant leg was torn flesh. Black, red, and blistered, it oozed white film. Fortunately, it wasn’t bleeding—
the veins must be cauterized
. Smiling, Lukas stalked toward him. He believed the battle was over. Allyn tried to stand, but his leg buckled under him. He retreated, dragging his bad leg. Despite Lukas’s methodical pace, he closed the distance between them.
This is it
, Allyn thought.
This is the end.
He tried to wield, but the pain acted as a barrier, a distraction. He couldn’t find the torrent of energy inside him. Finally understanding Jaxon’s exercises, Allyn laughed. Separating his mind from his body while finding the ability to ignore discomfort and pain could prove to be the difference between life and death.

Lukas stopped in front of Allyn. “What’s funny?”

“Maybe my sister and I aren’t so different, after all. We both have to learn the hard way.”

Allyn was certain Lukas wouldn’t understand the humor, but he smiled anyway as he knelt in front of Allyn.

He’s right there. Waiting. Wield, and it’s over. He won’t have time to dodge it.

Allyn tried to ignore the pain and wield. He struggled to control his breathing and focus on something else—the blood running through his veins, the rhythmic beat of his heart, and the hair on his arms and legs standing up against the cool, gentle breeze. But the pain was too intense. Blood coated the remains of his pant leg. The veins were not entirely cauterized, after all. Sharp pains pulsed through him with the beat of his heart, and the tattered pant leg brushed against the wound as the wind blew. It all came back to the pain. He couldn’t separate himself from it. He couldn’t wield because of it.

Allyn’s shoulders slumped as he sighed a final breath of resignation. White hot, two feet in diameter, and growing, a fireball formed in Lukas’s hands. The air shimmered around it. Lukas wanted him to know there was no escape. Even if Allyn tried to roll out of the way, he couldn’t roll far enough because the fireball was too large.

The gesture was also pointless. Lukas didn’t know Allyn resigned himself to death. He expected Allyn to keep fighting.

He expects more of me than I do of myself
.
And why shouldn’t he?
Allyn had already lived up to Lukas’s expectations. He was a new kind of magi who could wield. Lukas and Graeme both had expected him to change the magi community. Allyn had bested Lukas, saved Kendyl from his clutches, and largely destroyed his following.

I nearly killed him
.

The fireball continued to grow.

He’s afraid of me
.

The realization stirred Allyn’s desire to exceed those expectations. Knowing Lukas feared his potential gave him confidence. Allyn dove inside himself. The pain was still present, and growing worse as shock and adrenaline wore off, but instead of trying to wield around it, he accepted it. Embracing the pain, he poured it into the void.

And the void swelled with energy.

He pulled it to the surface, projecting it into his hands. His hands grew warm. He could
feel
the energy before he saw the red tendrils wrapping around his wrists like thin bolts of lightning.

Allyn threw up his hands, projecting the charge forward. Lukas’s eyes opened wide. He threw hands in front of his face, and the fireball dissipated.

Red coils of electricity struck Lukas in the chest, but he wasn’t thrown backward. The coils wrapped around Lukas, binding him in their clutches. His rigid body shook violently, his hair standing on end. His clothing caught fire, burning his skin, causing blisters to grow and pop. His skin melted, and eyeballs burst. As disgusting as it was, Allyn didn’t let go. He let his pain and hatred flow into Lukas.

Let him feel my pain. It’s time he understood the grief he’s caused. Even if it kills him.

And kill him it did.

Epilogue

A
light rain began. Allyn lay on the ground in front of Lukas, his eyes closed, allowing the cool rain to wash away the stink, the sweat, and the blood from his body and soul. Allyn didn’t know how long he stayed there, but the rhythmic sounds of rain slowly replaced the violent sounds of battle. When he opened his eyes, the clouds had turned shades of purple and red. It made him think of all the death he’d seen and caused.

At some point, the manor had collapsed into an enormous mound of smoldering ash with only a single stone wall left standing. The once-cultivated lawn of the manor grounds was now a mud pit destroyed by battle.

“Allyn?” Nyla knelt over him, resting her hand on his chest.

Jaxon was beside her. His eyes shifted back and forth from Allyn to Lukas as though he perhaps expected the man to rise again. Lukas had made a habit of turning their carefully made plans against them and escaping when they thought they had him cornered. But he would never rise again.

“He’s gone,” Allyn said. His voice was oddly strained, raspy.

It was all Jaxon needed. Ignoring Lukas’s remains, he pulled up Allyn’s shredded pant leg, exposing his wound. He grimaced.

“That bad?” Allyn asked.

Nyla gently placed her hand over the wound, probing him. “It’s hot to the touch and already showing signs of infection. We can’t wait. If we do, we risk losing the leg.”

Allyn leaned forward as far as Nyla would allow him to, barely getting a glimpse of what remained of his leg. The skin around the wound was an angry red. The rest was black, pink, and yellow. Allyn became flushed and dizzy, on the verge of passing out.

“Stay with me, Allyn.” Nyla’s voice was comforting.

Focus on that
.

Allyn locked eyes with Nyla. Her blue eyes were inviting and as comforting as her voice. They held him, keeping him calm. They didn’t change or show any sign of pain as the tingling of her healing spread through his leg.

“That’s all I can do now,” she said only a few moments later. “The worst of it is better, and you should be able to walk. I wish I could do more, but there are so many wounded.” She looked past him to the battlefield beyond, where too many bodies to count lay motionless. The McCollum Family was decimated. Only a handful of them remained alive, and their cries of pain and loss rang through the early morning.

“It’s more than I deserve,” Allyn said. “Thank you.” He sat up, gingerly moving his leg, expecting pain. Nyla had done more than she’d let on. A thin layer of translucent skin covered the wound, creating a delicate barrier against the elements. His skin was still black, but that would heal in time.

Jaxon helped him up. He couldn’t put his full weight on the leg, and he would walk with a limp, but he was mobile—and alive. Together, they slowly crossed the battlefield to where Graeme lay. Leira sat beside him, holding his hand and fighting back tears. She had closed his eyes and covered his wound with a coat. Except for his motionless chest, he looked as though he could be sleeping.

Liam charged out of the trees, coming to an abrupt halt several feet behind them. He was covered in blood, but he appeared uninjured. Had there been another battle somewhere else? Where were the ones he was supposed to be protecting?

Allyn took a small step toward him. “Liam—”

“What happened?”

“Liam, listen…” Allyn was suddenly at a loss for words, having flashbacks of telling Kendyl their mother had died. He wasn’t sure if it was his place to tell Liam about his father. He turned to Jaxon and Nyla.

Jaxon exhaled deeply, then began to say something but stopped. Tears already welled in Nyla’s eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Liam asked. “Where is my father?”

Allyn deflated, his shoulders going slack. “Liam, I’m sorry. Your father… your father is gone.”

“No,” Liam said, shaking his head, face contorted in pain. “No… he’s…” Liam rushed forward.

Jaxon stopped him with an arm and pulled him close in a tight embrace.

“Let me see him!” Liam shouted. “I need to see him!”

“Liam.” Jaxon’s deep voice was soft and tender.

His emotions making him stronger, Liam continued to fight, trying to shove Jaxon aside. “Why won’t you let me see him? Let me see him!”

“Liam?” Leira stood.

Liam saw her, then the body at her feet. He fought savagely, kicking, stomping, and flailing. Jaxon let him go, and Liam raced toward Leira and the fallen body of his father. He slowed in front of the body. Leira’s firm expression hid the torrent of emotions Allyn knew she must be feeling. She wore a mask for her little brother. Allyn knew the guise well.

Kneeling, Liam took his father’s hand. “What happened?”

Leira circled her father, then dropped to her knees beside Liam. “He fought bravely.”

Liam squeezed his father’s hand hard enough that his own knuckles went white. “Was it quick?”

Leira stole a glance at Allyn and the others. “Quick enough.” She wrapped an arm around him and pulled him close. Liam didn’t fight it. Leira trembled slightly, her strength fading.

“We should bury him,” Allyn said. “He deserves better than to be left here.”

“They all do,” Jaxon said, keeping one eye on the driveway as though he expected the police to arrive at any moment.

“I’ll gather the rest. Go console her.” Allyn nodded at Leira. Jaxon hesitated.

He’s scared
, Allyn realized. Jaxon could stare down a host of magi that intended to kill him, but consoling the woman he loved terrified him.

“She doesn’t need you to say anything. Just be with her. Be her rock.”

Jaxon nodded. He could do that. In many ways, he
was
a rock—a dense, stubborn boulder that wouldn’t move for anyone else. He shuffled over and knelt behind Leira and Liam, awkwardly rubbing Leira’s back. She leaned into him, resting her head on his chest.

That was when she broke down.

Half an hour later, distant sirens, still miles off, whined in unison. Too many to count, they echoed across the canyon.

Graeme lay across a hurriedly constructed funeral pyre in a small space within the manor that had been cleared of debris. His arms were crossed, and his white battle attire had been scrubbed as clean as possible. Allyn stood with the others around the pyre, humming softly. The other fallen magi had been burned where they fell, Lukas’s magi included. For some, it was more than they deserved, but it was the magi way, and Graeme would have wanted it done.

Jaxon led the funeral procession, bringing the humming to a crescendo, then raised his hands to the sky and released a stream of fire. Thirty hands shot up, and those who could wield followed Jaxon’s example. Allyn shot a series of jagged red static charges into the air. The display would likely be seen from the road, but it didn’t matter anymore. They had been found.

The humming stopped, and Jaxon directed his fire at the pyre. The rest of the wielding magi did the same. Graeme disappeared among the flames. The pyre burned faster and hotter than it would have naturally, and Allyn was thankful he couldn’t smell Graeme’s burning flesh, though he did occasionally have to look away. Watching Graeme burn reminded him of Lukas’s gruesome death.

As the sirens drew closer, Jaxon ordered them to move, leaving the pyre to smolder. Running at a steady pace, they fled the manor in an organized file, two men wide. Once they entered the forest, the pace slowed, but they continued, heading for the homestead, where Liam said the rest would be waiting.

Jaxon lagged behind, and Allyn fell into step with him. They stopped just beyond the tree line to watch as police cars screamed around the bend, up the driveway. The manor’s remains obscured Allyn’s view, but the red and blue lights pierced the early morning light. Earlier, the scene had been drastically different—an empty manor that had stood for decades and would stand for even longer. Now it was laid to rubble, and dozens of faintly human bodies littered the grounds.

The police would conduct a full-scale investigation. They would call in the arson unit and other crime scene investigators. The coroner’s office would be packed full of magi bodies that would have no dental or any other identifiable records. A morgue full of John and Jane Does would deepen the investigation. The library would be discovered. Its contents would be researched and catalogued. They would be exposed.

Then the real hunt would begin.

“What happens now?” Allyn asked.

Jaxon looked at him with fear in his eyes. “I don’t know.”

The hike back to the homestead was easier than the one from it to the manor. The sun hung low, and the first rays of morning cast light on exposed roots and sudden dropoffs. Wispy spider webs stretched from branch to branch, glistening in the light, as a black mass waited in the center of each, preparing for its prey. Chirping birds brought the forest to life, covering the sound of the traveling group’s footfalls. What had taken them an hour in darkness took them half as long in the light of dawn.

The reunion was well underway by the time Allyn and Jaxon arrived at the homestead. There were hugs and tears for those returning and more for those who hadn’t. A general sense of shock over the loss of the manor gripped everyone.

“Where are we going to go?” a young girl asked, clinging to her mother’s leg.

Al
l eyes turned to Jaxon. He stammered, searching for words, and rubbed the brands on his arms nervously.

“I know of a place,” Allyn said.

“Where?” Jaxon asked, perhaps too eagerly to maintain his confident façade.

Allyn found Kendyl amid the expectant eyes. Her dark hair glinted with a touch of red in the morning sun. She smiled. She knew what he was thinking. He smiled back, knowing that he would never hear the end of it. You can’t put a price on everything. Having a place to call home was priceless.