Duncan came in. “Appreciate the tact. And you were right, Fallon, there’s nothing we could have brought back to Mom that meant more than that picture. If you could all come back, we could get through this. She and Hannah have a lot of questions.”

Lana picked up a tray of snacks. “So do we. Duncan, Fallon, grab more glasses and small plates, would you?”

When they were alone, Duncan ran a hand down Fallon’s back as she opened a cupboard. It surprised him how much he needed contact, but he didn’t question it.

“It’s going to take some time to walk them through it all,” he began. “And after, I’m going to need to stay with Mom. She’s handling it, but it’s stirred things up.”

“I can’t even imagine it. You think you can because you’ve heard all the stories, but you just can’t. She lost everything, everyone, so fast, so hard.”

“I thought I understood, but I didn’t. Not until I went into that house and felt it, felt them. So Tonia, Hannah, and I need to stay close tonight.”

“It’s going to be the same here, once my mother knows about Allegra and Petra.” She handed him a stack of small plates. “More stirring things up. I promised my three a hunt tomorrow. Maybe you’d like in on that.”

“I’m doing a couple classes at the academy in the afternoon, but I’ve got the morning.”

“First light, east woods?”

“That works. Buy you breakfast at the community kitchen after.”

“That really works.”

As they carried in the dishes, Duncan realized he’d—inadvertently—obeyed Simon’s strong suggestion during their conversation. He was taking Fallon on a date.

* * *

For two brisk, bright hours past dawn, Fallon rode the woods with Duncan. The night’s snowfall left a fresh, fluffy six inches over the forest floor. The air smelled of it, of pine and purity, as they followed the tracks of a wild boar.

Taibhse glided, white wings spread, through trees with branches laden with snow and glinting spears of ice while Faol Ban slipped in and out of sun and shadows.

Here, the woods pulsed with life. The heartbeats of trees slow and steady in their winter rest, the quick beat of birds on the wing, of animals small and large, the bright pulse of pixies dancing through the ice and snow.

Light and life here, Fallon thought, unlike the dark and death in the wood on MacLeod land.

They didn’t talk of the dead wood, of war or ghosts, of tactics or strategies, but argued books and DVDs, exchanged bits of gossip. It occurred to her they’d never just ridden through the woods, with a hunt more of an excuse to be together than a real purpose. They’d rarely talked of inconsequential things or explored each other’s thoughts on them.

People had done just this once—maybe not with sword and bow—but they’d spent time talking about so many things that didn’t lead to life or death. Now, when war drums beat constant, taking an hour or two for only that became precious.

She’d remember it.

Because she would, she reached over, drew him closer, and kissed him with the owl soaring overhead, and the sun streaming onto untrampled snow. He got a better grip, added some punch to the kiss—oh yes, she’d remember it.

Then he eased back, put his fingers to his lips.

She caught the scent, too, and waited while he drew an arrow from the quiver on his back. The boar nosed through the trees. His bad luck, Fallon supposed, that the wind carried their scent away from him.

Duncan loosed the arrow, took it down, shot Fallon a quick grin. “That ought to pay for breakfast.”

“And then some.”

They took the boar to the community kitchen, where Duncan bartered for breakfast, some dry goods, and a portion of the meat. When they settled down to eat, she noticed a couple of those injured, treated, and not back to full duty sharing a meal along with a handful of recent rescues. It reminded her to go by the clinic and check on Lucy and Johnny before she left town.

Fred popped in, a rainbow-colored cap on her explosion of red hair, her youngest on her hip.

“Hi. Can I sit a minute?”

Duncan patted a chair. “You want some breakfast? I’ve got a little credit left.”

“No, thanks.” With the ease of experience, she stripped off the toddler’s coat and cap as she talked. “I just dropped the kids off at school, and Dillon at the playground. The preschoolers are building snowpeople.”

She set Willow down, unearthed some wooden blocks from an enormous bag. “Build us a castle, cutie. Your dad made her those blocks for Christmas,” she said to Fallon. “She’s crazy for them. He and Eddie are working on the tractor—again. The alchemists are working on the corn fuel, and they think it’ll work. Anyway.”

She blew out a breath, side-eyed to make sure Willow remained engaged with her architecture. “I had coffee with your mom, Fallon. She caught me up. I haven’t talked to Eddie yet, but anything that has to do with Allegra, he’ll want to be part of it.”

“From what we learned, she and Petra only go there once a year, so we’ve missed them. And that’s the first substantiated sighting we’ve had in over a year.”

“They’re not done—and I don’t mean just with the awful things they’re doing in Scotland. I know Arlys is on her way to Montreal, but when she gets back, I think she and Chuck should, I don’t know, put out an alert. Allegra and Eric worked with the PWs on the first attack on New Hope. They may be with them now, or still.”

“We’ll find them, Fred,” Duncan assured her with a hard gleam in his eyes that spoke of vengeance.

“They’ll come after you. You, Tonia, Fallon, Lana, especially. They want us all, but especially you.”

“And that’s to our advantage.” Fallon finished her eggs. “Neither of them are what you’d call cool heads, and we will be. Neither of them are quite sane, and we are.”

“I believe in you, and I believe the good always beats back the bad. But crazy and bad? It’s unpredictable, so, you know, be a little wary.”

Once Fred gathered up the baby, the blocks, Duncan studied Fallon.

“We didn’t talk about it, about them.”

“No. I want to say I know how much Denzel meant to you, and I understand the need to even the score.”

“It can’t be evened.”

“No, it can’t. I know how I felt when I struck out at Eric, and what blew through me was dark. It was revenge more than justice. I had to pull away from that, and so will you. You’ll need to be a little wary, Duncan, because it’s a powerful feeling. It’s seductive.”

“I need to end her, for Denzel, for that girl we found and all the ones she laid out on that altar. It’ll be justice. Whatever else I feel when I do end her is mine to deal with.”

FAITH

Yet I argue not

Against Heav’n’s hand or will, nor bate a jot

Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer

Right onward.

—John Milton

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

It worried her, but Duncan was right. It was his to deal with. If she asked him to believe in her, she had to believe in him, believe his light, his heart, both strong enough to resist that dark surge.

She knew its pull, and had to admit she’d felt it tug inside her the night before when she’d seen what had been done to a young girl.

Murder, slavery, torture, mutilation, those were horrible crimes. But human sacrifice? An even deeper evil. So yes, she wanted to end them, this mate of her uncle, her own cousin. She wanted to spill the blood of her blood, and knew she’d have to beat back that dark surge to come out whole again.

Another choice, she thought as she rode to the clinic. One that might prove the hardest of all to make.

It surprised her when Taibhse dropped down to Laoch’s saddle after she dismounted, and Faol Ban stood on guard. She’d expected them both to go on their way.

“You don’t have to wait,” she told them. “But if you do, I shouldn’t be long.”

No one sat in the waiting chairs, which she deemed a good thing as she made her way to the offices. She found Rachel at a desk reading some paperwork with her half-glasses on her nose.

“Slow day?”

Rachel took off her cheaters, sat back. “At last. Hannah and Jonah are doing some routine exams. Not one emergency this morning,” she said, rapping her knuckles on the desk three times. “We were able to release a few more this morning, so it’s actually pretty quiet. Quiet enough I was just going over the supply list for the expansion. It’s going to take some doing, but Bill Anderson and his team of miracle workers—which includes your father—say they’ll make it happen so we can, potentially, break ground this spring.”

Fallon walked over to the detailed sketches pinned to a bulletin board. In them she saw potential and vision, and most of all, faith.

“You’re going to need more medicals.”

At that Rachel let out a satisfied sigh. “I have a pediatrician—yay!—in the rescues from D.C. She’s not ready, physically or emotionally, to work yet, but she will be. And I have another healer from the same group. Best of all?”

Fallon glanced back. “Best of all?”

“I’ve put together a series of exams, mostly from memory. I want Hannah to take them next month. If she passes, as I know she will, she’ll be a doctor. As officially as we can make it. I’ve talked to Katie, and the town council. We’re all agreed.”

“I think that’s definitely best of all.”

“She’s young. Awfully young, but she’s been training, seriously training, since she was thirteen. She’s got a natural talent, and the passion.”

“Does she know?”

“I told her this morning. I want her to have time to study. The exams aren’t a cakewalk—shouldn’t be and won’t be. She’ll have earned her M.D.”

Rachel had let her hair grow a little longer since summer, had it pulled back in a short pouf of a tail. Now she rubbed the back of her neck under the poof.