“You’ve been in battle,” Fallon pointed out. “Treating wounded. And kicking PWs in the balls.”

“It’s different. You don’t think, you just act. You do what you’ve trained to do. But this? You have to think, every second, about what you’re doing, what’s around you instead of how to stop the bleeding or set a bone. And the magicks. I’m around it all the time, obviously, but I’ve never been in it, not so, you know, intimately. It’s the only time, other than now and then when I watch what the healers can do, I’ve wished I had some of that.”

“You’re a doctor,” Tonia said. “Saving lives, easing pain, that’s your magick. And it’s awesome.”

“I saw you.” Fallon spoke quietly. “On the night Petra attacked, when her twisted parents attacked. I saw you below, covering someone with your own body. You’re a doctor, and a warrior.”

“Ball-kicking warrior.”

“I didn’t have a sword on me at the time. Thanks. Anyway, I didn’t mean it to sound like I’m jealous. Maybe I had some moments when we were kids—”

“Mommy! Boo-hoo! Tonia’s making the puppy fly again.”

On a huff, Hannah rolled her eyes. “I was six.”

“Seven.”

“Whatever. And you weren’t supposed to fly the puppy.”

“He liked it.”

“So you say. Anyway.” Hannah exaggerated the word as she gestured with her glass. “As an NM, I can tell you I’ve observed that magick’s fun, and powerful, and important. But it’s also a heavy responsibility. I’m happy not to carry it. The two of you were born to carry it. I think—no, I absolutely know—I was born to be a doctor. I think about my birth mother sometimes. You must think of Max sometimes, Fallon.”

“Yes. I thought of him tonight.”

“Like Duncan and Tonia, and their father. Maybe tonight especially. When I think of her, I feel sure she was meant to survive long enough to bring me into the world. It had to be terrible for her, for all of them, but she survived until I could live. And Mom was there, right there, Rachel and Jonah, all right there, and I believe that was meant, too.”

Tonia reached over to squeeze her hand. “We were meant.”

“Yeah, we were. They’d never have left a helpless baby behind, but they did more. Mom did so much more. She made me hers, and not only kept me alive, but loved me. She gave me a life, and I was meant to use it to save others. We’re all here for that.”

Hannah picked up the bottle, poured another round for all. “And tonight? We—stealthily—kicked ass.”

“She talks a lot when she’s drinking,” Tonia pointed out.

“I’ve noticed that.”

“I really do. But, crap, did you see all that stuff? In the office, in the—what is it—Residence? Who the fucking fuck are they, living like princes while people, so many people, still struggle to feed their children?”

“And Mouthy Hannah throws the F word around, liberally.”

“Well, fuck them!”

“Oh, we will,” Fallon assured her, enjoying Mouthy Hannah.

“Good. Do you think there’s any pizza? We could have some pizza and talk about men.”

“Like how Justin makes non-flying puppy eyes at you.”

Hannah gave her sister a cool stare. “He’s still a boy. I said men. Not like Garrett, who still makes those puppy eyes at you, but more like Roland, who I clearly saw you making out with a few nights ago.”

“Forget Roland. He’s a sloppy kisser. I just don’t go for the sloppy kisser. We could talk about all the guys who make the puppy eyes at Fallon.”

“Me?” The grin that had started while listening to the sisters turned into shock. “What?”

“I could name half a dozen who’d slurp you up like Fred’s rainbow ice cream.”

“That’s ridiculous, and I don’t have time for that anyway.” But now she wondered. “We’ve got pizza.” She rose, grabbed the bottle to go with it. “We’ll go up and eat—we earned it.”

She paused at the base of the stairs. “Maybe you should make me a list of those guys.”

Tonia laughed, slung an arm around Fallon’s shoulders. “It’ll be a long one.”

BATTLE AND BLOOD

The brazen throat of war.

—John Milton

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Fallon had expected to take some heat from her parents over her mission to D.C. She hadn’t expected to feel that heat scorch over her from all directions.

“You could’ve gotten caught, or worse. We wouldn’t have known where you were, or what happened.”

“I didn’t,” Fallon pointed out to her mother. “I took precautions.”

“One precaution,” Simon tossed back, “was not telling us.”

She’d hoped to appeal to him as a soldier, but he was, currently, all Dad. “It needed to be done. I was prepared. I was careful.”

“So careful you ended up pulling Tonia and Hannah in with you.”

Maybe her mother had her there, but—“They walked in on it. I adjusted. The intel we’ll gain from this is invaluable.”

“So are you. Not just to me and your father. To everyone.”

How was it, she wondered, her parents could wipe away years, training, freaking destiny, and make her feel like an eight-year-old in dire need of a lecture?

“I did what I knew had to be done, to take D.C. and minimize our casualties. I’m going to do other things that worry and upset you. You need to trust me.”

“Two-way street, Fallon. You did what you felt you had to do, but you didn’t trust us.” Simon kept his gaze steady on his daughter, laid a hand on his wife’s shoulder. A united front. “We don’t deserve that.”

That was bad enough, but she had to suffer through the same reaction from nearly every New Hope Original, from Fred’s sad eyes, to Arlys’s cool insult, Katie’s—okay, justified—anger at having her two daughters involved without her knowledge.

Even, crushingly, from Chuck.

“You know a sure way to demoralize and damage an opposing force? Any video game proves it—and, well, history. You take out the head, the leader. You risked that, kid.”

“Jesus, not you, too. My parents are down on me, I’m still raw from a Will lecture. I figured you, at least, would be on my side.”

“Everybody’s on your side. You oughta remember that next time.” He looked at her, the geek with purple-streaked white-blond hair and a tiny, pointed beard, and made her realize not just parents could make you feel eight and stupid.

And flipped her last button.

“You know, I’ve had enough of this crap.” She threw out her hands where the spurt of temper had light snapping from her fingertips. “I didn’t bring on the Doom, I didn’t ask to be the freaking Savior of the world or spend my life fighting, but that’s the goddamn reality. That’s the freaking, fucking world. So when I pull off a high-risk, high-reward operation, I don’t appreciate being treated like a kid who missed curfew because I didn’t clear it with every-damn-body first. I am the leader, and it’s my head.”

She kicked a chair because it was there. It levitated a foot off the ground, trembled there, fell with a thump.

“And that’s just the way it fucking is.”

Chuck said nothing until he’d sucked down some of the mango juice and ginger ale he’d grown fond of. “Feel better?”

“Not one damn bit.”

“Too bad. Here’s what I don’t appreciate. Being put in the position of having to think and act like a tight-assed adult.”

He shot out his index finger with its WTF tattoo.

“Then don’t!”

“Uh-uh. I’m there now, and since I am, I’m going to say you can either do a little mea culpa-ing to smooth this out, or you can keep riding that high horse until your nose bleeds from the altitude. You got stuck with leading, well, sucks for you, but a leader who doesn’t respect who they lead doesn’t get much respect back.”

“Damn it.” She wanted to kick the chair again, but she already felt like an idiot. “I do respect them—you—all of them, and especially the Originals. Beyond words. I wasn’t sure I could do it until I was sure, then I needed to act, not take a meeting. And—” She thought of her father’s words. “Two-way street.”

Maybe she would kick the chair again.

“You’re not wrong.”

“So when I— What?”

“You’re not wrong,” Chuck repeated and sucked up more fizzy juice. “We’re not wrong. Give a little, get a little. Plus, I’ve about used up my adult quota for the week. I want to get to this.”

He swiveled to his workstation, rubbed his hands together. And Eddie came in.

“Here’s more,” Fallon grumbled.

“We just wrapped up the spanking.” Chuck winced. “I didn’t mean that in a creepy uncle way.”

“Then I’ll just say ditto. Plus. Dude.” He gave Fallon a light head slap before he turned to Chuck. “Have you picked anything up?”

“I’m about to commence getting started on working on trying to do just that.”

“Before you do, Fred’s been working on something.” He held up a sealed jar filled with dark liquid. “She wanted you to try it out.”

“Okeydoke. What’ve we got?”

“You tell me.” When Eddie unsealed the jar, it let out a hiss, bubbles rose up. When he poured some into a cup, the air above it sparkled.

Chuck took it, sniffed. “It couldn’t be.” Looked at Eddie with what Fallon read as desperate hope. “Couldn’t be. Could it?”

He took a small, testing sip. Closed his eyes—and whimpered a little before he took another, deeper sip. “It’s a miracle. A genuine miracle.”