Prophecy's Child (Broken Throne Book 2) Read online

  Tris looked down into the usually sun-bright pit, assessing the pitiful, pulsing red energy. She shrugged. “I’ll try. How many techs can you get me?”

  “I have eight on site now and will have another four or five soon. Will that be enough?”

  “We’ll find out. I’ll start with the eight. Have the others come down and we’ll start rotating breaks. I managed to fix the pumping station with only three of us, but that was a smaller spell. This will take more hands and time.”

  “Get started. I’ll round up the others.”

  She nodded, pulled a hair tie from her wrist, and reached up to pull back her long brown hair into a tight ponytail. This would be hard work and she didn’t want her unruly hair getting in the way.

  Tris approached the railing at the shaft’s edge, pulling magic in to form the first patch. She would be here for a while.

  CHAPTER 31

  It was pitch black at the bus stop. Winnie could see the outline of her hand as she raised it, silhouetted by the starlight above. The lights had blinked on and off several times until, in this instance, they’d stayed off.

  She could hear car horns and occasionally see a car’s headlights coming down the street. She was in a relatively light travel area. Busses only stopped every forty minutes or so. She checked the time on her phone and realized she’d been waiting almost that long. With the power out and traffic lights dead, Winnie wondered if the buses were even running. Maybe it was time to call a cab.

  She was considering her flight from bad to worse when the first of the tremors hit. At first, Winnie didn’t know what it was. Earthquakes were like tornadoes — threats from another place. It stopped after only a few seconds, leaving Winnie swaying to stay on her feet.

  How was her mother faring with the earthquake and blackout?

  Winnie looked around, still searching for an approaching bus, a cab, or even a random car she could flag down.

  Headlights turned on the street a few blocks away then drifted towards her. The engines of an approaching bus rumbled her way. She blinked into the glare of blinding headlights as it stopped a few feet away.

  The door opened and the driver called out. “Last run of the night, young lady. The buses are all called back to the garage until these blackouts are under control.”

  “Are they happening everywhere?” Winnie asked.

  “Supposedly so. I’m sure that between the blackouts and our little earthquake a moment ago, people are starting to feel nostalgic about the dust storms.” The driver laughed without humor.

  Winnie boarded the bus, paid her fare, and walked past the twenty or so passengers to find a seat at the back. A little girl about halfway down the aisle turned around and stared at Winnie after she sat. Winnie half-smiled, then turned to stare out the window.

  A second earthquake struck a few minutes later. The tremor forced the driver to stop, pulling his bus to the curb while waiting for the seismic convulsion to pass. Part of the brick facade on a building a few feet ahead toppled into the street and littered the sidewalk. A few passengers shouted in alarm. Others eyed the trembling buildings outside with terror.

  Winnie clung to her seat, riding out the tremor until it passed.

  Passengers started to whisper, then the whispers turned to hushed chaos as people wondered out loud whether they would ever get home safely. The driver tried to calm them as he pulled back onto the street, threading his way around the piles of toppled bricks.

  Winnie looked forward as they drove, noticing the little girl’s eyes still upon her. She was about five or six years old, clutching a well-worn doll in one arm. Winnie gave the girl another smile, but she turned and said something to her mother that Winnie couldn’t hear.

  The mother turned and glanced at Winnie. Something like recognition passed over her face. Did she know this woman from somewhere?

  Another tremor shook the bus.

  Passengers shouted, crying out in fear. The driver pulled over again.

  The girl’s mother shouted at Winnie. “Why don’t you stop it?”

  “What do you mean?” Winnie asked.

  “You’re her. My daughter recognized you from the TV. Why don’t you stop this, like you stopped the storms?”

  Other passengers started to turn, all of them looking back at Winnie. Recognition lit their eyes, one pair at a time. Winnie shifted in her seat, trying to stand despite the tremors, but the bus rattled again and forced her back down into her seat.

  Passengers started to point, and demand that she put an end to the earthquakes. But she shook her head.

  “You don’t understand. I can’t stop this,” Winnie insisted. “I don’t know how. I don’t know how I stopped the storms. You have to believe me.”

  “Why don’t you try?” asked a middle-aged man with gray streaking his jet black hair. “You could save us all.”

  “I don’t know how, I swear.” Winnie stood as the tremor finally ended, then walked to the rear exit. She pulled the rope and called to get off. She wanted to go home, but couldn’t ride the bus with these people. She had to find another way.

  But the door was still closed.

  The driver was standing, now joining the passengers calling her to do something — anything — to stop the tremors and restore the city’s power.

  Someone grabbed Winnie’s arm as she tried to push her way through the closed doors.

  The world was shouting.

  Don’t go! Stay with us and stop the earth from moving! You can do it! We saw what you did! The little girl is right. You can save us all!

  Winnie shook her head and pushed at the doors. She hurled her body against them, but they would not move.

  She looked up, frantic to flee the bus. She saw an emergency release lever and lunged past a few grasping passengers, pulled the lever, then jumped off of the bus as the doors sprung open.

  Two men got off, followed by the woman and her daughter. They were all calling for Winnie to come back and save them.

  Instead, she took off running up the street. There were people on the sidewalks, exiting their buildings in fear. They heard the passengers calling after Winnie and joined in their cries.

  Another tremor shoved Winnie to the ground. Pain shot up one leg as she slid on a knee across the pavement. She scrambled back to her feet, reaching down to rub her knee as she limped away from the crowd now closing in.

  Her hand came away from her knee covered in blood and she looked down to see her jeans were torn, road rash marring her kneecap.

  She cursed, biting her lip though the pain, pushing on and praying for speed, racing away from pursuit.

  A car swerved towards the curb ahead. Winnie thought it would jump the sidewalk and run her down, but it stopped at the edge of the street.

  The driver’s door opened.

  Danny got out of the car and called to Winnie, “Come on. I can get you out of here.”

  She limped over to the passenger side of Danny’s beat-to-hell compact and yanked the door open as he climbed back into the driver’s side.

  She looked over her shoulder. The crowd was getting closer, still shouting for her to save them. She slid into the passenger seat and pulled the door closed as Danny gunned the engine and drove away.

  He looked even worse than he had the last time Winnie saw him, but she also felt the strength of their connection. It warmed her, set her at ease.

  Everything would be fine. Danny had found her. If she stayed with him, it would all work out.

  She stopped herself. Danny had found her, but how had he known where she was? Artos and Gunderson dropped her off in an area where she rarely traveled, and yet he had known precisely where she was. It should have bothered her, made her wonder what was happening, but the part of her brain that was so intimately connected to Danny soothed those cautionary thoughts.

  She settled for a singular thought. “How did you find me?”

  “No, ‘thank you?’ No, ‘you saved my life?’ I’m hurt.” Danny gave her the smile that always m
ade her melt. Even in his current, haggard condition, it was undeniably charming.

  “Sorry, Danny. I’m just surprised to see you. You showed up in the nick of time.”

  “I had a feeling you might need my help, so I went out looking for you.” He took her hand as he drove. “Come on, I’ll take you to my new place. It’s not far from here. Then we can catch up.”

  “You have a place? Where — how?”

  “My father pulled some strings and got the charges against me dropped. That means that no one is after me, but he also pretty much cut me off and told me we were through. After he left me standing on the doorstep of my childhood home, my mother slipped me enough cash to get a place and told me to come back when it ran out. I can’t believe she’s defying him like this, but I’m glad that she is.”

  “So we’re both in Hell. Great. Must be destiny.”

  They shared a long and lingering laugh, a salve to the day’s brutality. Winnie was looking forward to being in a place where she didn’t have to worry about the pregnant cloud of chaos hovering above her.

  Danny’s apartment was in the basement of a worn down, four-story building just outside the Enclave’s border, a neighborhood of poor middlings who could barely afford their basic needs. It showed in his shabby furniture. He called it furnished, but that was clearly an opinion. There was no place that Winnie wanted to sit. She wasn’t exactly use to a palace, but still it was all so disgusting.

  But she needed to be close to Danny and that meant staying here. So, she chose the corner of a stained couch cushion and sat. As shocking as this dump was to her, it must have been doubly so for Danny. He’d gone from a silver spoon to a dirty spork in a matter of weeks.

  Danny looked around, then put his hand to his head and closed his eyes.

  “Are you alright, Danny? Is it your headaches again? Let me help you, like I did the last time. Please, sit.”

  She pulled him down to the sofa beside her. He didn’t resist, leaning forward and tilting his head so Winnie could place her hands like she had before.

  Winnie reached up and applied her fingertips, drawing the magic from around her and setting it to work. She felt an immediate, familiar, pleasant surge of satisfaction. She felt happy. The euphoria was electric, sending jolts of pleasure to the ends of her toes and back. Winnie wished she could feel this way forever, rather than only by his side.

  Danny’s face changed, too, color returning with the fading pain. Winnie could see his transformation as she directed the flows into his head.

  His improvement soothed her. She didn’t want to just help him, Winnie wanted to cure him; she wanted to delve deep into her reserves, earn another surge of adrenaline, feel the sensation coursing through her with every magical thread coaxed into place.

  Winnie finished, sat back, and stared at Danny, trying to gauge how he felt now based on his expression. “How was that?”

  “Wow,” he said. “It’s like I’m a whole new me. I wish you could live here with me.”

  Winnie cringed, but then considered her mother’s reaction to what she’d been doing, and how she had been hounded on the bus. Maybe hiding here with Danny wasn’t a terrible idea.

  “Maybe I will. My mom and I are on the outs. I might need a place to stay.”

  Safety was one thing, but her bond with Danny was also narcotic, and she didn’t want to let it go.

  Danny smiled with twinkling eyes. “Well, then, let me show you the rest of the place. I’ve even put fresh sheets on the bed.”

  He winked and Winnie felt slightly ashamed by her own devilish smile. She’d lost a baby because of moment like this. She couldn’t fall for that handsome grin again.

  But a full-body euphoria helped Winnie to swallow her doubts. She took Danny’s hand and pulled him toward the bedroom.

  They were kissing, then fondling, and soon the two of them were swimming into each other.

  CHAPTER 32

  Artos Merrilyn stood in his offices above the Mender’s Hall Building, staring out the windows at his city. The Hall had a generator, so he’d survived the rolling blackouts better than most. Many people had come to Artos seeking help over the last week, and he sent Gunderson on regular missions of mercy for those who couldn’t get to him on their own. It was his place to protect those in his care as the Enclave boss.

  The city lights were on; he could see no darkened patches where blackouts might still be a problem. The techs at the main power plant had restored power and reported that it should remain on for the foreseeable future. Artos wasn’t sure the future was all that foreseeable now. Winnie was the only runner earning. The others had all stopped reporting — most were either sitting out the developing drama between he and Cleaver, or they’d already made their plans to work for his adversary.

  While the city might have recovered from the most recent changes in power, Artos had not. He keyed his intercom and called Mr. Gunderson into his office. It was time to put some contingencies in motion. Opportunities would be harder the longer he waited. When his assistant failed to enter after an especially long moment, Artos keyed the intercom again.

  The door swung open and Artos stood. But it wasn’t the dapper Mr. Gunderson who entered his office.

  Cleaver Yorke’s broad frame filled the doorway. He took his time to occupy the threshold, eyeing Artos before making his way fully into the room. Just past him, two men flanked Gunderson in the outer office. Artos straightened to his full height, though he was unable to match his opponent’s stature, and gestured to a chair in front of the desk.

  Hard as it was, he found a smile. “I’d like to say this is a surprise, but it isn’t. I have been expecting you. Please, have a seat.”

  Cleaver let out a booming laugh that caught Artos by surprise. But he didn’t let it show on his face. The other man kept laughing, shaking his finger at Artos in admonishment.

  “Arty, you do have a certain style and panache, don’t you? I’ve always liked that about you. Here I am, standing in your office, ready to kick you to curb or worse, and you offer me a seat as if it were still yours to offer.”

  “Power is fleeting, Cleaver. Influence is a currency for trading when something is needed. Your presence doesn’t remove the cards from my hand.”

  “You mean her?”

  “If by ‘her’ you mean Winnie Durham, then you’re correct. She still works for me, or at least she did the last time we talked. You and I both know that’s the only reason you’re dabbling in Baltimore. I can’t imagine you want the responsibility of running another city?”

  “She intrigues me, Arty. She’s one of the few people to get away with telling me no, not once, but twice. She did it to my face both times, as if she had no idea what sort of danger she would be stepping into when she did.”

  “She doesn’t know, Cleaver. She is special, and you should leave her alone. The girl has work to do — far more important than our petty squabbles.”

  “Your prophecy? I’ve heard others talk about a child of prophecy who would save magic for us all. She may or may not be that person, but I have plans for her, regardless. She has power that neither of us have seen in our lifetimes … even yours, Arty. And that power needs to be working for me. I’m the only boss who can protect her from those who want a piece of her.”

  “And you don’t want a piece of her? Excuse me if I find your altruism suspect, Cleaver. We both know better than that.”

  Cleaver smiled, all teeth. “Winnie Durham must stand beside me when her most important decision is made, or else all is lost, Artos.”

  “Your famous sight?” Artos chuckled. “Just because it’s never been wrong doesn’t mean you’re always right. How often do things work out differently from what you imagine? Have you considered the possibility that Winnie is supposed to be your boss and not the other way around?”

  Cleaver tossed his head back with a convulsive laugh. “I follow a woman and my crew disowns me.”

  “Statements that include the words never and always often return to
bite the speaker, Cleaver. This world has a few absolutes, but almost none where the affairs of mankind are concerned.”

  Artos stood and walked around the desk to face Cleaver, the man who was there to remove him from his position as Baltimore’s Sable boss. He couldn’t stop the takeover. Still, he had to mitigate his losses if he was to remain in a position to assist Winnie. Her being captured on video fighting the Enclave fires had cemented her celebrity. She needed guidance and protection now more than anything. He could only provide that if he was still in the city, near enough to her to help when needed.

  “So, Cleaver, what now? I’m prepared to leave gracefully. But if you want Winnie to work for you, you’ll have to convince her yourself. I believe that my crew have all defected.”

  “Arty, you never cease to amaze me. I had some of my boys who said you’d be a tough nut to crack, that you’d never go down without a fight. I disagreed. I knew you were a pragmatist. You’d see the writing on the wall and know to save your hide. See, I was right.”

  Artos nodded but said nothing. Cleaver was dangerous when crossed. He needed to see Artos as benign. After a moment of consideration and an unbroken stare, Cleaver waved over his shoulder to the two large men behind him.

  “Take our friend, here, and his assistant in the outer office down to the underground garage. I believe Arty has a car. Put them in it and follow them until he gets to his place on the edge of the city. Park outside and make sure they don’t leave. I’ll send you relief in a while.”

  The two men stepped over to Artos and reached out to grab him by the arms. Artos stared until their hands fell back to their sides, then he nodded to Cleaver and walked out of his office, grateful that everything had played out as expected. Mr. Gunderson joined him in the outer office, then they headed down to the parking garage, accompanied by Cleaver’s crew.