The Dragon Heir (33 page)

Looks like there's no easy way
out of this, Jason thought. Maybe not even a hard way. And if they lost, well…He
shivered. Wizards had a talent for torture and something to prove. He hadn't
forgotten his experiences at Leicester's hands.

Note to self: don't be
taken alive.

He'd talk to Mercedes. Maybe
she wouldn't give him flame, but she'd have something—some kind of poison pill that could put him out of
reach if need be.

Jason had never seen so much
activity on the streets of Trinity, Ohio, at five in the morning. Police with
hooded flashlights walked house-to-house, pounding on doors and rousting the
occupants—smashing windows and clearing
houses by force when necessary. Families poured out of their homes, towing
suitcases and sleepy children, carrying duffle bags and pets in cages shrouded
against the wind. Squad cars and ambulances hauled the aged and infirm.

Jack and Ellen had pulled on
their leather gauntlets and light chain mail. Their great swords poked up over
their shoulders, but under the circumstances, no one paid them much mind.
Getting away with stuff depends a lot on attitude, Jason thought.

The evacuees had scrounged
what protection they could. One entire family down to a babe in arms wore
helmets fashioned out of aluminum foil to protect against radiation. The Cosmic Shop
next to campus had opened its doors and was doing a brisk business in healing
crystals.

Will and Fitch and Leesha had
done their work in the dormitories and student apartments. Students cruised by
on skateboards, bikes, and rollerblades, wearing backpacks, headphones, and
earbuds, wrapped in fleece blankets, carrying stuffed animals and cradling laptops.
Many were still dressed in nightclothes under their coats: T-shirts and
sweatpants, flip-flops or clogs. They looked like refugees from a country that
favored audio technology, impractical footwear, and personal transportation.

At street corners, marshals
clad in bright yellow storm coats labeled TRINITY POLICE directed the flow of
people toward the lake.

“Hey, man!” A
student shoved his radio toward Fitch and tapped his headphones. “How come
I can't get any stations?”

“Must be radiation,”
Fitch replied.

Despite the crowds, and maybe
because of the early hour, the exodus was relatively quiet. People shuffled
along silently, clutching their belongings, fear and apprehension on their
faces.

Good, Jason thought. Maybe we
can actually pull this thing off without attracting the attention of the
wizards outside.

Jason left the flow of traffic
toward the salt mine and veered west along the lakeshore. Lightning strobed
almost continuously, and thunder rattled the windows of the beachside cottages.
Waves thrashed against the breakwater, drenching him in freezing spray. The
wind howled off the lake and ice pellets stung his exposed flesh.

Wizards making a point.

He worked his way down the row
of cottages, perfecting his evacuation system. If there was no answer when he
knocked, he'd blow a hole in the door, reach in, and unlock it. He'd rouse the
family, apply Persuasion to the head of household to get immediate cooperation
(no one would agree to venture out in that weather otherwise), and hustle them
out. He had it down to fifteen minutes per, after a few.

Just inside the Weirwall was
Shrewsbury Place, looking like a wad of pink stucco bubblegum stuck onto the
lakefront. He'd visited there when Leesha was staying with Aunt Millisandra.
Before he went to Coalton County. Now Leesha was staying at Snowbeard's. But
what about Aunt Milli?

He checked out the compound,
which was embroidered with an elaborate wrought-iron fence. Leesha would've
already come and picked up her aunt. She must've.

But she was working the south
end, by campus.

No one answered when he
knocked, so he let himself in the usual way.

People tended to wake up when
he blew out the door, but no one responded, and he hoped that meant Aunt Milli
was gone already.

He ended up surprising the old
woman in her bed. Aunt Millisandra screamed when she opened her eyes and found
him looming over her. She winged a lamp at him, followed by a blast of fire. He
threw himself face down on the Persian rug, flames singeing the back of his
head.

She hopped out of bed with
amazing agility for one so old and locked herself in the bathroom. He could
hear her just on the other side of the door, whimpering and talking to herself.

He was afraid to blow out the
door with her so close. “Hey, I'm not going to hurt you. It's Jason, remember?
Everybody has to leave. I came to get you. Please. Move away from the
door.”

She didn't reply, but kept
muttering to herself. He could hear glass shattering, fixtures exploding. Water
gushed out from under the door. Aunt Milli was creating her usual magical
disaster area.

Damn. He didn't have time for
this. “Come on, Aunt Milli. Just calm down and move away from the
door.”

Nothing. He was going to have
to blow down the door, whether he liked it or not.

He heard a sound at the front
of the house, a door slamming.

It was Leesha. Her cheeks were
rosy from the cold and she had Fitch's bandana tied around her curls. She'd
taken him by surprise, and it struck him how much he missed her.

“She's in there,” he
said, swallowing hard, nodding toward the bathroom.

“Aunt Milli?” Leesha
knocked on the door. “It's Alicia. Open up.” There was no answer, and
she repeated herself, louder. “She's kind of deaf, remember?” she
muttered aside to Jason.

A tremulous voice came from
the other side of the door. “I don't believe you. Go away.”

“Aunt Milli, I'm sorry
Jason scared you. Remember Jason? He came for tea.”

“I don't remember any
Jason.”

How about Jasper? Jason
thought. Remember him?

Leesha looked down at the
ankle-deep water. “You have to let us in, Aunt Milli. It looks like
there's a flood.”

“It's the middle of the
night,” Millisandra quavered.

“No, it's early
yet,” Leesha said. She paused, then said, “There's a dance at the
pavilion by the lake, and I thought you might like to come.”

There was a pause, then,
“Really? It's not too cold?”

“It's a lovely
night,” Leesha coaxed. “The moon's out, shining on the water, and I
bet you can hear the band all the way to Canada.”

“Oh, my, well, it's been
a long time. Perhaps I could come for a little while.”

Jason heard fumbling at the
lock, and then the door eased open, revealing a shyly smiling Millisandra.

Leesha brought up her hand and
fluffed a powder puffin her aunt's face. Gemyn bana. Mind-Slayer. Aunt
Milli collapsed, and Jason caught her smoothly before she hit the tiles. He
lifted her in his arms. She weighed nothing.

They joined the streams of
humanity flowing along the lakefront toward the mines.

“Thanks for fetching Aunt
Milli,” Leesha said, touching his arm. “I don't think I could've
carried her.”

Jason said nothing.

They took a half dozen more
steps, then Leesha said, “Jason, look. I'm sorry. About Barber.”

“Seph and Jack told me
about the collar.” Jason looked straight ahead.

Leesha seemed determined to
say her piece, as if she thought she wouldn't have another chance. “Barber
beat me up. He told me he'd out me to all of you if I didn't help him. You'd
throw me out of the sanctuary, and then he'd kill me.”

Jason remembered the tea with
Aunt Milli, the night before he left for Coalton County. Leesha's face had been
bruised and swollen.

“So you had no
choice,” he said. “Understandable.”

“After I put the
lodestone in your pack, I knew I'd made a mistake. I tried to call you, to warn
you, but you didn't answer.”

Jason remembered the missed
calls on his cell. “Guess it's my fault, then.” Every time he opened
his mouth, cold, hard words kept coming out.

“Jason.” She put her
hand on his arm again, and he shook it off. “I… I didn't mean that, I just
wanted you to know that … I didn't want to.”

He was afraid to look at her,
afraid he'd give in. “Okay,” Jason said, kicking fallen branches out
of the way. They were coming up on the police checkpoint at the entrance to the
mines. “I believe that you're sorry you gave me to Barber.”

“I guess … he hurt
you?” She shook ice from her curls, blinked it from her eyelashes.

Not as much as you did, Jason
thought. It was his own fault. It wasn't like he'd walked into it blind.
“I'm okay.”

Two EMS corpsmen brought up a
stretcher, and he carefully laid Aunt Millisandra on it. “Better stick
with her, make sure she stays out,” he said to Leesha, imagining what kind
of chaos she'd create in the mines. “I'll go do another sweep.”

But Leesha wasn't going to let
it go. She sidestepped into his path. “If you believe I had no choice,
what is it, then?” When he didn't say anything, she persisted.
“What?”

“I thought you actually
liked me. I didn't realize it was all a setup.” Pathetic.

She grabbed his hand, gripped
it tight in both of hers, like she never meant to let go. “I do like
you. Jason, please, you've got to believe me. I …”

“I don't have to do
anything. And I don't believe you. Not anymore.” Gently, he extricated his
hand from hers.

And walked away.

Jessamine Longbranch was tired
of the privations of war.

She missed her palace on the
banks of the Thames: the gardens layered in white roses, the servants who
waited on her hand and foot, the more civilized intrigue that went on under the
guise of wizard politics.

Shivering, she pulled her
jacket close around her shoulders and pushed away her plate of shrimp. She was
alone in her pavilion at three in the morning.

The problem with laying siege
to a fortress was that the besiegers were as trapped as the besieged. It might
be amusing to play army for a day or two, but this was excessive.

She couldn't shake the nagging
sense that they'd been cheated. Where were the Anaweir citizens of Trinity? Why
weren't they bursting through the Weirwall to be snatched up by the waiting
wizards? Where was the panic in the streets? Just what this siege needed to end
the impasse. Though it was Wylie's idea, she'd thought it would work.

Leaning forward in her chair,
she poured herself another glass of wine. Then nearly spilled it when someone
said, “Hey.”

She whipped around, knowing it
was already too late to defend herself.

“Relax,” Jason Haley
said, raising his hands to show that he was as unarmed as a wizard can be.
“If I'd come to kill you, you'd already be dead.”

“Then why are you
here?” Jess demanded, still rattled. “And how did you get in?”

He ignored her question and
dropped into the chair opposite her. “I need safe passage out of the
sanctuary.”

Jess blinked at him in
surprise. “What? Why?”

“McCauley's insane,”
Haley said bluntly. “He's going to get us all killed.”

“Ah.” Jess settled
more deeply into her chair. Intrigue and dissension. Perhaps she wouldn't call
the guards just yet. “So this weapon he's talking about isn't so powerful
after all?”

Haley shook his head
impatiently. “Wrong. It's incredibly powerful. That's the problem.”

“What do you mean?” Jess
asked, growing impatient with the trickling pace of the story. The boy seemed
jittery. He flinched at every sound and drummed his fingers on his thigh,
tapping out an erratic rhythm.

“They're all dead,”
he said finally, looking up at her, then away. “The Anaweir.”

“What?” Jess stared
at him, thinking she must have misunderstood. From the look on his face, she
hadn't. “How did that happen?”

“It was an
accident.” Haley stared off into space, a muscle in his jaw working.
“He was experimenting with the Dragonheart.”

“You're saying McCauley
killed off the entire Anaweir population of the town?”

Haley nodded, taking a deep
breath. “There are a few in the hands of the healers, but even if they
survive, I don't think … anyway. It was a disaster.” He scrubbed a hand
through his ragged hair.

Jessamine scanned his face.
Either the boy was a damned good liar, or he was telling the truth. “Becka
Swift? Those boys who came to Raven's Ghyll?”

He nodded, looking down at the
ground.

Jess couldn't help admiring
the strategy, even while it made her task more difficult. “How convenient.
Now McCauley doesn't have to deal with them.”

From Haley's lack of response,
Jess assumed he'd been thinking the same thing, even if he wouldn't say it.

“Well,” she said.
“Poor Jackson must feel a bit betrayed.”

“I don't know what he
thinks. People are afraid to say much. Now McCauley sorta kinda knows how to
use it, but that's not good enough when it could destroy all of northern Ohio
and Indiana. But he doesn't care. Ever since—well—
what happened, he's determined to make it work. You know, to make the sacrifice
worth it.”

McCauley had seemed
arrogant and self-important last time she'd seen him.

“And you don't want to be
a martyr?” Of course he didn't. Whatever she thought about Jason Haley, he
wasn't a fool.

“I don't want to throw my
life away for nothing. I'm going to try and end this.”

Jess raised an eyebrow.
“You're going up against McCauley? Isn't that a bit of a … mismatch?”

Haley's head snapped up and
Jess smiled into her wine. The boy was jealous, naturally. McCauley was getting
all the attention. He was the star of the rebel show.

“We'll see,” Haley
said. “I don't dare touch the Dragonheart. It's that unstable. But I'm
going to bring back somebody who can handle it without getting killed.” Longbranch
rubbed her chin. “Someone more powerful than McCauley?”

“In a way.”

“Who?”

“Madison Moss.”

Longbranch leaned in close.
“The girl from Second Sister? Is she really gifted, then?”

“Not exactly. She can't
use the stone like a wizard would. But she won't set it off.”

She studied him. “You
know this for sure?”

Haley nodded.

“Where is she?”
Longbranch asked.

Haley snorted. “Right.
Like I'm an idiot.”

Jess sighed. “What are
you proposing?”

“I'm thinking we could—you know—make a trade. If I bring you the
Dragonheart, McCauley will surrender. He won't have a choice.”

“Why would you do
that?” Jess asked. “Why would you hand us the one weapon you
have?” She wanted to believe it.

Haley jerked his head toward
the town. “There are people in there I'd like to save. Plus, you give me
D'Orsay. Like you promised.”

Hmmm. She wouldn't mind losing
D'Orsay now that his usefulness was over. They had the sefas from
the hoard, disappointing as they'd turned out to be.

“How do we know you're
not going to fetch Hastings?”

“You control the outer
wall,” Haley pointed out. “How would he get in without your knowing?
I'm betting you'd love to catch him on his own out there.”

Ah. Yes. Indeed. “Why
would Madeline…Madison Moss help you?” she asked delicately.
“Isn't she going out with McCauley?”

“Was,” Haley said. “They broke up. Let's just say she's
open to new…possibilities.” He looked at her dead on, delightfully
shameless.

Haley had an edgy kind of
charisma. Teenage girls always went for the bad boys. This was looking better
and better. But Jess was suspicious when things looked too good to be true.

Haley smiled, as if reading
her thoughts. “Look. Whether you believe me or not, you're not risking
much. My presence or absence won't make much difference in the end result. If
I'm telling the truth and we do a deal, you'll be saving all your skins. Trust
me. Everybody dies if McCauley uses the Dragonheart.”

“You'd betray your
friends?” she asked, thinking, Why not? It was, after all, the wizardly
thing to do.

“Better betrayed than
dead,” Haley said. “We can negotiate amnesties once this is
over.”

“Of course,” Jess
said smoothly. “When do you plan to go?”

“Tonight,” Haley
said. “I'll come through the outer gate just after midnight. Make sure you
have my get-out-of-jail-free card ready.”

Stone Cottage was deserted, as
was usual these days. It took Jason less than an hour to gather his things and
stuff them into a duffle. He wouldn't need much.

It was a long, spooky walk
through near-deserted streets to the park. Jason kept to the shadows, hoping to
avoid running into anyone he knew. The Trinity safety forces had entered the
mines along with the citizens, maintaining the fiction that they were
evacuating because of “radiation contamination.”

A few ghost warriors patrolled
the streets to prevent looting. It seemed a waste of effort to Jason. The town
would be toast before long, given the Roses' proclaimed scorched-earth policy.

The hands on the clock tower
scissored together as he cut across the vacant commons. The bells pealed out
twelve times.

The usual motley of warriors
stood guard at the Weirgate. Jason nodded briskly as he walked past, hoping to
discourage conversation, but Jeremiah Brooks stepped out from their midst.
“Mr. Haley, i'nt it?”

Jason raised his hand in a
kind of salute. “Brooks.” He kept moving, which he hoped would convey
the message that he was on an urgent mission. But the warrior left his comrades
and kept pace with him.

The night breeze carried the
warrior's scent to Jason: a faint miasma of sweat, leather, old blood, and
tobacco. He'd painted his face and stuck a few feathers into his hair, giving
him a fierce, primitive look.

“So where you off to,
then?” Brooks asked, a lilt in his voice betraying his eighteenth century
Brit origins.

“Thought I'd have a look
around outside,” Jason said vaguely. “See if there's any movement
along the boundary.”

“Right,” Brooks
said. “Well, then.” He rubbed a finger alongside his nose. “You
take care out there. The Roses— they're
right tricky.”

“Right,” Jason said.
“See you.” He passed through the gate and into no-man's-land. The
skin on the back of his neck prickled. He couldn't help wondering if Longbranch
would really play, and if the plan had been communicated to the wizards on
guard. Otherwise this might be a very short journey. He resisted the temptation
to recheck the location of all the sefas hidden on his person.

As he approached the outer
wall, he saw a half-dozen White Rose wizards collected around the wizard-wall
gate. Longbranch's house. No sign of the Red Rose.

The sentries barred his way.
“Name?”

“Haley.”

Silently, they parted to allow
him through.

The gateway yawned before him.
Jason took a step forward, then another, expecting at any moment to be
incinerated by some trap they'd forgotten to disarm. Five more steps, and he
was through. He looked back. The White Rose wizards stood watching. He turned
and kept walking, through the maze of wizard pavilions, past the camps of the
Roses. Fifty more paces and he was well hidden in the woods. He paused a moment
to brush away all the magical spyware and tethers that had been attached to him
at the gate.

He moved ahead at a trot.
Amazing how much stamina he had now that he'd quit smoking. He'd have to find a
house, appropriate a car. He didn't have much time.

He looked back only once more,
as he topped a small rise. Trinity swam uneasily in a sea of wizard mist like a
fairy castle, the turrets of Mercedes's wall punching into the sky. Dark clouds
rolled in from the lake, casting deep shadow over the town and thickening the
night.

He turned, and ran faster.