CHAPTER TWO
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His mentor dragged Thomas into a strange metal building through fire and gushing water and collapsing beams. The girl and the skinny guy dashed up the crumbling stairs behind them. Thomas felt disconnected, dazed.
“I have to go back,” he shouted, struggling away.
“God damn it,” his mentor blasphemed. “Charles, Blake, manage him.” She shoved Thomas toward the two men who had met them at the airport. One grabbed Thomas by both arms from the back.
“Let me go,” he gasped, panicking. He had to get back to the red-haired girl, out of this nightmare world of shaking and fire and dust and water. When had he ever been so disobedient? The other man punched Thomas in the stomach. He bent over, gagging.
“Don’t damage him, you idiots,” his mentor said. “Just bring him.”
The men grabbed each arm and pulled the hunched Thomas forward as the floor rolled under them.
“The place is collapsing,” one of the men yelled.
“What, afraid you’ll die?” his mentor shouted back, laughing.
“Afraid you’ll die,” the man muttered into the sudden quiet. All they heard was the crackle of flames. Thomas got his feet under himself. There was no time to vomit now.
They all followed his mentor down a metal staircase that twisted and groaned. His guards apparently decided he could stumble down the stairs on his own. They were busy keeping their own balance. The flames had followed them into the stairwell. He hurried after his mentor. Morgan had discarded her hooded cape, revealing sharp features, her dark hair braided and knotted over her head and the glow of her golden eyes. Thomas had never seen yellow eyes.
The flickering light of flames was the only illumination as they hopped from stair to stair across broken gaps. The stairs took another roll. The stairway leaned away from the wall like Brother Yanos when he’d been into the sacramental wine. His mentor increased the pace, tapping on the metal stairs with her deadly walking stick. They wound down into the earth.
When they came to the bottom, his mentor thrust at the door. Nothing happened. It must be blocked on the other side. The girl started to wail. Fire cascaded down the stairwell in big dripping globs. Would they be burnt alive, their backs to a door that wouldn’t open?
“Rusty, you’re up,” his mentor barked. The girl stopped crying.
The skinny young man with bad skin pushed up to the front. “Stand back,” he said as he held up his hands. The girders turned rust-colored. Even as Thomas watched, they crumbled into red flakes. He had never seen anything like it.
“Good work,” his mentor muttered.
The two bigger men pushed, scraping debris to the side with the opening door. Flakes of rust drifted in the smoke-filled air. Thomas choked and coughed. His mentor strode into the wreckage. The flames were closing in. The world outside the monastery contained things he’d never dreamed of.
He stumbled behind his mentor through the dust and crumbled walls. Doors had been wrenched out of their frames. Big tubes of metal had fallen from the ceiling. Charles, Blake and Rusty, along with the girl, were moving as fast as they could without running, glancing behind them to the flames that pursued them still.
The passage opened out into a wide room. Between fallen girders, debris from tables and chairs, and big metal boxes with broken glass fronts that spilled food and water bottles into the mess, were…bodies.
Thomas’s senses reeled as he dashed forward to help. Weak groaning could be heard over the roaring flames out in the corridor. Some were alive. He dashed to the nearest dusty figure under a crush of ceiling tiles and knelt beside it. He touched the throat of the woman, (for it was a woman) and felt an erratic pulse beat back.
“She’s alive,” he yelled, and began tossing debris away from her body. Should he lift her? He glanced around and saw a man with obviously broken legs trying to lift a girder off his thighs. So many to help!
“Leave her,” his mentor barked. “Find me dead ones.”
Thomas couldn’t help his expression. His brows drew together.
“I’m not a Healer,” she snapped. Her eyes, with their peculiar golden color, blazed. “They have to be dead. Now get on it, all of you.”
Thomas rose slowly from the unconscious woman’s side, and looked around. The groans were turning to cries and sobbing. It hurt his insides not to try to help them.
A girl caught his attention coming in the opposite doorway. She had a magenta streak in her red-blond hair. It matched the slash of paint on her lips. The tight-knit blouse she wore was cut so low that much of her bosom was revealed. Her eyelashes looked like spiders. She carried a small satchel with sections of netting in it. Plaintive cat noises sounded from within.
“I’ll take care of the fire,” she yelled. The girl put down the cat’s satchel and held her hands up. It began to rain in the corner of the room with the flames.
A young man with long hair pulled back into a queue came in. He had many silver rings that pierced his face. But most amazingly, two clear boxes hovered over the hands he held out. The boxes contained a shining sword and a jeweled chalice.
“Well, thank God for that,” Morgan barked. “Protect them, Duncan.”
The woman could make it rain? Indoors? The young man with the rings in his face could make things hang in the air?
“What about the Tremaine boy and the girl? They were your responsibility.” Morgan pointed to a thickly muscled man with very short hair and hard, light eyes.
“They got away,” he said, his voice flat.
“Is no one competent but me?” his mentor muttered. “I’ll have your hide for this, Jason.”
A flicker of worry crossed the hard man’s face.
“Get Phil out. He’ll be useful.” The man’s skull was crushed. He would not be useful.
Thomas found a man with his chest crushed. He knelt and felt for a pulse. Nothing. He’d never seen an actual death. Brother Theodosius said the monks who died slipped away from old age or disease and went to someplace more peaceful. The violence here didn’t feel like peace. “This person is dead,” he called, his voice a croak.
The man with the light eyes bore down on him. They pulled the girder off the corpse’s chest together. Thomas saw his mentor kneeling by the body of the one she’d called Phil. But he must not have been dead, because he sat up suddenly.
“Christ, Rick’s put on weight,” Jason grunted as he pulled on the body they’d just freed. “Help me get him to Morgan.” Thomas tucked his shoulder under the corpse’s other arm. Warm blood seeped into his clothes.
“Jesus, Morgan, these flames just won’t die,” the barely dressed woman shouted.
“Could be a gas leak,” Jason muttered.
“Get on that. I don’t want the place blowing up before we can get out.” She turned to Phil. “Get some of this debris out of here.”
“Will do, boss.” Phil didn’t even seem to be hurt. He shook his head, not crushed at all, and looked around. Rain sent eddies of water through the dust and debris.
Thomas couldn’t think about what he was seeing. He just had to do the next thing required. He and Jason laid their burden on the floor. Jason pointed to Charles and Blake, who took off at a run.
Phil popped out his hands in a pushing gesture and a girder jerked into a corner.
Thomas tried to get his breath. Who were these people who could make it rain, or rust metal, or shove girders without even touching them?
A groan sounded. The man with the crushed chest took a heaving breath under the palms Morgan had placed flat on his wound.
Thomas stopped. “He was dead,” he stuttered. “I know he was dead.”
“Yep. She brings them back to life.” Jason pulled out a heavy-looking metal thing that just fit his hand from a leather holder under his arm.
“Is…is she a god?” Thomas whispered.
Jason gave a rough chuckling sound, but it didn’t sound like he was laughing. “Maybe. A very vengeful god.” He stopped beside an unconscious woman. He held out the L-shaped metal thing, slick and black and evil. A loud report made Thomas jump. The woman jerked. Blood spattered from a black hole in her forehead.
Thomas gasped. The woman slumped.
“Now she’s dead,” Jason remarked. “Get her over to Morgan.”
“You…you killed her,” Thomas stammered.
Jason glanced up to him. “Like Morgan says—she’s not a Healer. They gotta be dead.”
Slowly, Thomas looked back at Morgan. The man with the crushed chest didn’t have a crushed chest anymore. In fact, he was getting to his feet.
Flames leapt up from nowhere in the far arch.
“Shit, fuck, piss,” the woman with the magenta-streaked hair said. She pointed at the new flames. It started to rain in the archway.
Thomas could hardly get his breath.
“Get a move on,” Morgan shouted. “The fire crew will search the ruins as soon as they get the crowds up top under control.”
Jason shot the man with the broken legs. “Drag him over to her,” he ordered Thomas.
Thomas pulled the corpse over his shoulder. He felt himself going numb inside. Maybe that was good.
*
A surreal landscape whizzed by the windows of the car in the dim light of dawn. The girl who could make it rain, whose name turned out to be Rhiannon, and the driver, Phil, appeared unconcerned at how fast they were going. Even the cat slept in its satchel. Other cars sped along the smooth road around them. The occupants didn’t look panicky. Thomas resolved to get used to the sensation. The city gave way to bare, chiseled mountains and dry bushes. Spiny, spindly plants poked upward. Others looked almost fuzzy with thorns. It was an unforgiving landscape and they plunged deeper into it with every passing mile.
Rhiannon dozed in the opposite corner of the back seat. Thomas couldn’t. He leaned forward since the seat bothered his back. Sitting was bad enough. He didn’t want blood all over the clothes his mentor had given him. His mind jumped around like the hares that darted through the woods of Mt. Athos. He’d seen people do what he knew was impossible tonight. His quiet existence of hard work and study had not prepared him for this.
What purpose could his mentor have for him in her world of daily miracles?
Just when he thought he would go crazy, or that he already was crazy, his mind would turn to the red-haired girl. That was either far better or far worse.
He had seen her only once. The only women he had known in his life were his mother and his mentor. He barely remembered his mother. And Morgan had been dressed like a man. She was stern and demanding. But was she like the women in the airport, or the girl with magenta hair? He didn’t know what women thought or how they were different than men.
Yet, he felt he did know the red-haired girl. She seemed almost part of him—in his bones and his blood. When he thought of her, it was like the way he felt when he saw the sun set into the Mediterranean: solid, peaceful, right.
Which was ridiculous, because in the next instant he didn’t feel solid or peaceful at all. In fact, the creamy skin on her shoulders, her bare arms and legs, made him buzz and tingle with excitement, but low between his hips. His penis swelled inside the jeans Morgan had given him. He knew very well what that feeling was. He’d experienced it in his dreams and awakened with fluid on his blanket. That was always sure to bring out Brother Theodosius’s scourge when he confessed his transgression.
Brother Theodosius had been clear that he must remain pure. No one could call those feelings and the sticky fluid pure. Thomas hoped he had not compromised himself beyond being able to achieve his purpose. The red-haired girl might be another barrier to that endeavor. What would he do then? And why was he even uncertain?
Rhiannon stirred and stretched. “Hey, pumpkin, you get any rest?”
He shook his head. She sidled across the seat of the big, square car to sit against his thigh.
“You look pretty tense.” She thrust her bosoms onto his arm. She showed much more skin than the red-haired girl, but it didn’t affect Thomas the same way. Rhiannon ran her hand over his thigh and then over the zipper of his jeans, where his penis was only now subsiding. “Oooooh,” she crooned. “Watching me sleep, weren’t you?” She rubbed him again. Thomas squirmed away. He didn’t want her touching him like that. She reached for his zipper.
“What the fuck, Rhiannon?” Phil called back from the driver’s seat. “Leave him alone.”
Rhiannon sat up with a pout. “I just want to teach him how to please a woman with his mouth. He’d still be a virgin.”
“Slippery slope,” Phil growled. “I don’t know what’s allowed, but I kinda think nothing.”
Rhiannon flounced over against the far door, her bosoms bouncing. “Spoilsport.”
“Spoilsport?” Phil snorted. “You want to ruin what she’s spent seventeen years cultivating? Yeah, that’d be a real smart move.”
They were talking about him, about his purpose. He should wait for his mentor to tell him about it but would it not be better if he could prepare himself? He could be a full partner in the execution of her plan. He cleared his throat. “What has my mentor chosen me to do?”
He saw Phil’s eyes dart to the small mirror that allowed him to see the back seat of the car and lock on Thomas. Rhiannon, beside him, went still.
“That’s for her to tell you,” Phil said, his voice rough.
But she hadn’t. Maybe she wouldn’t. He turned to look out the window. The sun was just touching the tops of the sere mountains. Then he brightened. Perhaps his purpose would involve the red-haired girl.
*
Tammy sat on the small bed in her room at The Breakers and looked out the window over the lawn and the cliffs and the late September sea to Catalina Island, floating calmly on the horizon, as if everything hadn’t changed since yesterday. She could hear waves crashing on the rocks below the gardens. The faint roar was a fact of life at The Breakers. Salt and the fecund scent of the sea wafted through the window. Her Belgian Sheepdog, Lance, lay stretched out on the small brown carpet behind her. Bagheera curled his black tail neatly around his paws and stared at her with huge chartreuse eyes from the top of her bookshelf. Down in the kitchen, she could hear the murmur of the family talking about their adventure in Las Vegas.
She actually heard laughter, in spite of the horrible situation the family was in. How long had it been since she’d laughed?
She looked around at her room, once a riot of pinks and purples. She’d ripped everything out after Daddy’s accident. Now it was brown and taupe and gray. One small rug lay on the floor for Lance. No spread on the bed, just a brown blanket and white sheets. She’d turned it into a monk’s cell. Lord knew why she’d saved the flowered sundress or why she’d chosen it to wear on a rescue mission. It peeked out from the wastebasket beside her desk. She’d ripped it off when she returned as though she could strip away what had happened.
Now she wore familiar black yoga pants and a slouchy taupe top. She could go back to being what she was before she went to Las Vegas, as grim as that might be. She had to.
Once her world had been full of possibilities. Her mother told her stories about how Merlin’s magic, dispersed through countless generations, now wanted to come together. Her family had the magic gene in their DNA. When the kids grew up, they’d find someone who also had the DNA and the magic would make them fall in love and they’d get a magic power. Their children would have even greater magic. The process would be repeated down through the generations until mankind was changed forever. Sounded great, right?
Her family felt it was their job to see that the change was for the better. So Daddy built Tremaine Enterprises to do good deeds in the world. It developed green technologies and operated rescue logistics for disasters. The Tremaine Foundation funded schools for girls in the third world and combatted health scourges like Ebola and Zika. Tammy had started an animal rescue organization when she was sixteen. Tris had invented a new way to recycle fossil fuels. Devin was working on efficient de-salinization.
What a lovely fairy tale, like they were part of something big, something good.
Too bad there were people who got their magic DNA from Morgan Le Fay and had a very different world in mind. Oh, and by the way, wanted the Tremaine family dead.
Tammy turned her head toward the airport up the Santa Monica bay. Distant planes hung in the morning air, lined up to land at LAX.
As soon as Lan recovered, there’d be yet another wedding at The Breakers. Tammy always knew she’d probably be last to find her Destiny, being the baby of the family. The Breakers was pretty much a prison these days, what with her family trying to protect her from the Clan. Hard to meet guys in prison. Still, once she’d been sure it would happen eventually.
But since Daddy had been hurt, hope seemed silly. The Clan beat the Tremaines at every turn. Whenever her family discovered one of the lost Talismans of the Tarot the Clan found a way to take it away. They had the Wand, the Sword, the Cup…. Mother lost her Healing. Daddy nearly lost his life and his power was a thing of the past. It was just a matter of time until the Clan got the last Talisman. Merlin had created them to increase the power of magic. Once the clan had them all, who knew what evil would happen in the world?
Now, unexpected as it was, she’d found her Destiny and it was a disaster.
Not fair!
Since that loading dock in Las Vegas yesterday, she’d been numb. She couldn’t tell her family what had happened. They’d think she was a traitor.
There was nothing to be done about it anyway. It wasn’t like she could ever be with him. The bleak feeling in her heart threatened to overwhelm her. Her eyes filled. Not fair at all. There was no escaping it, though. The man she was destined to fall in love with, the only One who could unlock her magic power, was a member of the Clan.
“Something w-wrong, honey?”
Tammy jumped up, startled. Her father was standing in the open doorway. “Daddy, how did you sneak up on me?” Lance barked as he scrambled to his feet, then realized who it was and came over to nuzzle her father’s hand.
“Sorry.” Her father looked apologetic. “Didn’t m-mean to scare either of you.”
Tammy’s mouth dropped open. “Daddy, where’s your cane?” The familiar thump of his cane had failed to announce his approach.
Her father looked down, surprised. “I guess I l-left it in the kitchen.”
And he wasn’t slurring anymore. His stutter seemed a more manageable. Her father was getting better and she’d never noticed. She bit her lip. Not that he’d ever be the same after he’d been in a coma. Kemble, called the Prince of Wales by his brothers, now led the family and Tremaine Enterprises.
Tammy felt her eyes fill. Her father stepped up to where she stood at the window and gave her a hug. “Honey, honey. D-don’t cry. Aren’t you glad I’m b-better?”
“Of course I am,” she managed.
He gave her a crooked smile. “Your m-mother was able to Heal L-lanyon.”
Tammy’s eyes widened. “She was?”
“N-not entirely. But s-she helped Dr. Tanet enough that he c-could propose to G-Greta.” Her father looked so happy for her mother. They had loved each other through thick and thin for more than forty years. Of course they had. It was in their DNA.
“I’m glad.” She willed her voice to steadiness if she couldn’t muster animation.
He bowed his head and looked up at her from under his brows. “Now. What’s wrong?”
She couldn’t tell him she had found the One and he was a member of the Clan. She’d carry that secret to her grave. It was a betrayal of everything the family had struggled for over the years. “Just everything. The Clan has three Talismans and we don’t even know what the fourth one is. Things don’t look good.” How could she tell him she felt a shift in her core that only made the pink and purple Tammy recede even farther? Her Destiny was lost.
“We d-do know what the fourth one is.” Her father’s eyes had a gleam she hadn’t seen in nearly two years.
Tammy frowned. “What is it?” They knew it had to be a Pentacle, since that was the fourth suit of the Tarot. But what form might a pentacle take in the modern world?
“Greta found it. S-she should tell you.”
Tammy couldn’t face a kitchen full of celebration right now. “You tell me, Daddy. Is…is the Clan going to just come and steal it again?”
“They c-can’t, honey. It’s a c-constellation.” He must have seen her surprise. “There’s a c-comet named Galahad. It will cross the b-bowl of the Big Dipper and form….”
“A pentagram,” she breathed. Wow. Greta was an astronomer. As well as a famous actress. So of course she would find the constellation. Tammy looked up at her father, suspicious. “If it’s a comet, it’s not permanent.”
“No. It’s a m-moment in time.”
Tammy could feel the fear rising up into her stomach. “When something will happen.”
He nodded.
“Oh, that’s not good, Daddy.”
“W-we don’t know th-that.”
But she did know that. Her family had been hurtling toward tragedy for years now. “Does the Clan know about it?”
He nodded, serious. “G-greta told them in order to keep them from torturing Lanyon.”
Tammy felt her face crumple. “That’s it, then.”
Her father hugged her tight again. “Have s-some faith, T-tamsen.” He held her away and achieved that crooked smile that had always shot straight to her heart. “Now c-come j-join us.”
Tammy sniffed and rubbed her eyes. As much as she loved her father, a chasm had opened up between them, widening with each moment she didn’t tell him that her Destiny was a beautiful man who followed Morgan Le Fay. Maybe she was doomed to betray her family if the draw of the magic between her and this guy was too strong. Or maybe she could resist the pull of Destiny. In either case she was screwed. She’d be half a woman, never loving anyone as much as her father loved her mother or her siblings loved the Ones each had found. She’d be on the outside, looking in. If they survived the comet making a Pentacle in the sky, and whatever the Clan would do with it.
“I should go down to the barn and look in on Cally and Gwenny.” That was her other refuge. She often spent entire days there.
“Okay, honey.” He had that tentative feeling he’d had since he’d been attacked with the Wand. She’d reminded him that the pink and purple Tammy was gone. But she couldn’t face the family. Not yet.
She got up and left him standing there. Lance trotted behind her. She wanted the comfort of her animals around her. Already her heart felt vacant and dusty. There was a member of Morgan’s Clan, power-mad, selfish, bent on wringing personal gain from the world, who thought he belonged inside her heart. And she must never let him in.