Books by Maggie Shayne (45 page)

Ren moved his eyes. They seemed the only part of him he was able to move at all, and even they didn’t seem to be operating at full power. His vision was blurred. His reactions slowed to a crawl. He had to think about changing his focus for long moments before his brain seemed to get the message to his muscles, before his eyes would actually move. So it took him a long time to find what he sought. Annie.

She’d pulled herself halfway out of the water and lay panting on the edge of the dock. With everything in him, he wanted to reach out to her, touch her, help her. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t make a sound, lift a finger. Couldn’t touch her or hold her or help her.

Ren knew he was dying. There was little doubt. And he knew that Sir George had no intention of pulling him from the jaws of death. Not this time. He’d broken his vows. He’d fallen in love with the woman all over again. He’d thought of nothing but her since he’d come here, and he’d been longing with every fiber of his being to find a way to stay with her. He’d put her first in his mind, his heart, his soul. Ahead of goodness, ahead of service, ahead of his word. And if given the chance, he knew he’d do the same all over again. Nothing worse than an unrepentant sinner.

Sir George wouldn’t forgive that kind of disloyalty, even if he could. As he so often said, rules were rules. So Ren would die. Even now he felt himself fading.

God, please let Annie be all right. Please. And the baby. Let the baby survive!

She seemed to gather her strength as she lay there. Then she pulled herself more fully onto the dock. Moving as if every effort caused pain, she lay on her back, bare-legged. Her soaking-wet sweater reached to her thighs. She struggled free of her panties, gasping, panting, but with such a look of determination on her face that he marveled at it. So strong, his Annie. She braced her feet on the wet wood and bent her knees. Her face contorted as she groaned low and harshly.

And Ren saw the miracle happen before his eyes. His child, small and slick and misshapen, emerged from Annie’s womb. From the haven of her body into the reality of the world it came. The savior of humanity. The greatest leader this nation would ever know. The one who would change the course of history.

A tiny, wrinkled baby girl.

Ren blinked. Yes. A girl.

The child lay still between Annie’s legs. Unmoving. And Ren’s chest filled with icy dread.

But Annie was too determined for that. She sat up a little, gripped the baby, and brought it up to lie upon her belly. Annie cleared the little mouth, smacked the tiny soles of miniature feet.

The sound was like the congested bleat of a newborn lamb—weak, tremulous, but getting stronger all the time—punctuated by strong gasps between each wail.

Annie’s arms closed around the child. “You’re all right,” Annie whispered. “We did it, baby… sweetheart… you’re really all right.” She stroked the child, her very touch seeming to impart strength. “But Ren,” Annie whispered, turning her head toward him. Her eyes found his. When she saw that they were open, she sighed her relief and smiled at him. “It’s a girl, Ren. A little girl. Our daughter.”

He tried to smile, unsure whether his facial muscles were responding. He couldn’t feel much of anything now. Numbness settled like a shroud. He tried to part his lips, to tell her he loved her. But his voice seemed soundless.

And then he realized that the baby’s cries had faded, too. And Annie’s lips were moving, but he couldn’t hear her words.

This was it, then. He was at the threshold of death. He’d been here before, but this time Ren knew of nothing that would stop him from passing over.

His eyesight blurred, and he blinked it clear again. Just a little longer, he prayed. Just a moment of joy with his wife and his daughter. Just one. He saw Annie crying, saw her hand holding his, but felt as if it were no longer attached. Only vaguely did he sense the barriers between the realms thinning. That shimmer that came into everything, even the air itself, while the invisible barriers between the worlds dissolved as if to let someone pass through. Was he about to be taken back to the other side, then? About to face Sir George and the results of his own disloyalty? Or was Sir George coming to him, perhaps to say goodbye?

And then he saw the little mark on the baby’s neck, and he was stunned, even in the throes of death.

He looked at Annie. She hadn’t noticed. She didn’t understand. He had to tell her. Ren tried to summon the will to utter just a few more words before he left her forever.

“Ren…”

Annie turned to face him, reaching toward him with one arm while cradling her baby with the other. She could feel him slipping away, leaving her again. And she wanted to touch him, cling to him. She couldn’t let him go. She wouldn’t.

“Ren, don’t! Don’t leave us, darling. We need you, your daughter and I. Please, Ren, don’t go!” Bracing her shoulder blades and flattening her feet, she inched closer to him, carefully holding the baby on her stomach. She reached out a hand, touched his face.

His still eyes parted, but only slightly. “Annie?”

Rolling a little toward him, Annie brought his hand closer and laid it over the child. “Your daughter, Ren.”

He could see her, and he understood. Annie knew because his eyes had regained a tiny hint of their old sparkle when his hand touched the baby. It was the first sign of life she’d seen in them. Was there a chance? There had to be.

“My daughter,” he whispered. He strained, the muscles in his corded neck standing out, the vein in his temple pulsing. Annie wasn’t certain what he was trying to do. Then she saw. One of his arms had been dangling over the edge of the dock, his hand in the water.

The pure water, she recalled now. Sara had known about it. Sara had known, somehow, that Blackheart couldn’t bear the touch of purity.

Ren strained to lift his hand, palm cupped full of the crystalline water. Slowly, agonizingly, he brought it closer and drizzled it over the wriggling baby’s head, pouring it on her neck. The baby closed her eyes tight, scrunching her face up comically.

“My… daughter,” Ren intoned, his voice holding only a modicum of its former vigor. “She is… Sara, Annie. Sara Dawn Nelson.”

Annie frowned at his words. She knew Ren was fond of Sara, even though he’d met her only once. But fond enough to name his daughter after her?

There was something in his eyes. He didn’t speak, only sent her a silent message. Annie looked down at the baby again, noting the pink skin on her face and neck, rinsed clean by the lake water Ren had drizzled there. She caught her breath. The birthmark was there, a perfect berry-colored crescent moon, high on the left side of the baby’s neck. Just below her ear.

Sara Dawson… Sara Dawn… Nelson?

J
was conceived here
.

Yes, Sara had said that, hadn’t she? And this baby had been conceived here as well.

“My God, could it be… ?”

She stared in wonder down at her daughter’s face, the deep dark eyes and thick ebony swirls of hair. The serious expression. She wasn’t crying. Just staring, taking in the faces of her parents as if she were filled with questions she couldn’t yet ask.

“Sara?” Annie whispered.

“Yes, Annie,” said a deep, gravelly voice. “It’s her. I don’t know how, but she saved you. And herself. She couldn’t save Ren, though.”

Annie’s gaze snapped upward, and she saw Sir George, standing over her, staring down at Ren with the saddest expression on his face. His old eyes were dull, his lips downturned. He even seemed pale.

Half afraid to look, Annie turned to see Ren, so still, barely alive. It was obvious. She could almost see the life draining from him as he lay there. His eyes remained open, but the light in them faded rapidly, until they resembled worn denim more than the sapphires they’d once been.

His lips moved, but his voice was little more than a whisper. “I… love you… Annie. S-Sara… my Sara…” His fingertips flexed as if he wanted to reach out to touch Annie and the baby. But that was all he managed to move. His eyes fell closed.

“No!” Annie shook her head frantically. “Sir George, you can’t let this happen! You can’t!”

The old man bowed his head, and she swore his back stooped, as if bearing a great burden. “I’m sorry, Annie. I love him, too, you know. But he broke his vows. There’s nothing I can do now. Believe me, I would if I could. He was my most beloved knight...”

“You don’t love him,” Annie said, getting up to her knees, clutching her newborn daughter in her arms. “If you did, you wouldn’t let him die! You couldn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. “But there’s nothing I can do. He already died, you see.” Sir George’s voice was glum. Low. Toneless. “This is painful enough for me without your accusations, lady, though I understand your pain. Believe me, if I could save him, I would.”

“He can’t die,” Annie whispered.

Sir George came forward, and she thought she saw a gleam of unshed tears in his eyes. He bent over Annie, touched the baby’s face, and spoke in a voice as soft as the deep wind on a winter night. The baby gurgled and sang in reply. Impossible. She was only a few seconds old.

“Yes, you did well. You did well, little one. I don’t know how, but you did. You’re a special girl, you know. And I’m so glad my knight… your father… managed to save you. Despite the rest. I knew he would.“

He looked at Annie again. “She has magic in her, this child of yours,” he explained. “A will to live, stronger than anything I knew could exist. Somehow, she sent her spirit ahead of her, sent it to help you and Ren get through this.”

Annie shook her head in wonder and bent to press a kiss to the top of her daughter’s silky head.

Sir George touched the baby again, and little Sara shimmered like a heat wave. When the shimmers cleared, Sara was clean, and the cord that had attached her to her mother had vanished. The baby lay snugly wrapped in a downy blanket of purest white. When Annie gave her head a shake, she realized that she, too, was clean. And dry. And clothed in a white dressing gown that felt like silk.

“My God…”

“I only wish I could do more for the two of you,” the old man whispered. “And more for Ren. My finest knight.”

“But he isn’t your knight, is he, Sir George?” Annie said. “Not anymore. He broke those vows he swore to you, and that means he can’t be your knight any longer.”

Sir George nodded slowly. “Alas, it’s true. If he were still my knight, I’d be using my heavenly magic to heal him.“ Sir George looked at Ren and closed his eyes. ”I’m powerless to help him now.“ The man sounded ashamed of his impotence.

“So now he’s just an ordinary man again,” Annie said softly, leaning closer to her husband, brushing a hand over his forehead.

“An ordinary man who is dying,” Sir George said softly. “He was killed eight months ago, Annie. When he gave his life to save a busload of children because he couldn’t do otherwise.”

“Please,” Annie cried, tears flooding her eyes. “Please, there has to be a way. Think, Sir George, there must be something...“ Then she lowered her head as a sob tore from her chest. Her vision blurred, and her arms trembled with the weight of her daughter.

Immediately a cradle appeared beside her. Some antique work of art, all intricate carvings and obscure symbols. Sir George took Sara from Annie’s arms and tucked the baby into the bed as gently as if he were handling a china doll. Then he turned to stare sadly down at Ren again.

“His mortal life ended. His mortal body died, Annie. I wish it were different, but—”

“No.” Annie turned her head sharply, meeting George’s eyes. “No, wait. His body… We never found his body. Sir George, why didn’t we find him if he was truly killed back then?“ George blinked slowly. His brows lifted, and his eyes widened. ”You’re right,“ he said. ”By almighty God, you’re right, Annie. I broke my own rules back then. I couldn’t wait to bring my most favored mortal into service as my first and most worthy knight.“ He licked his lips, a gleam of excitement lighting his eyes. ”So I used my magic to pull him from the truck before it exploded on the banks of that river. His body was never found, his family never given the comfort of burying him… because… because, Annie,
he never actually died.“

Though he spoke quickly, even while kneeling to move his gnarled hands over Ren’s broken body, Annie found herself running out of patience with the man. But those ancient eyes met hers, and they were filled with hope—a hope that hadn’t been there a moment ago.

With the baby safely in the cradle, Annie turned her attention back to Ren. She crept closer to him, to cling to his hand as if she could keep him with her by holding on tightly enough.

“Don’t leave me, darling,” she whispered. “Please, Ren, hold on.”

“He’s an ordinary mortal man,” Sir George was saying. “A man who never died in the first place, and so there’s nothing stopping him from resuming his life with his beautiful wife and extraordinary daughter. Nothing stopping him,“ Sir George said softly, ”except for mortal wounds that are even now drawing his life from his body. And I can’t help him, Annie. The power to heal… it isn’t mine to bestow.“

Annie looked up, tears filling her eyes. “Maybe you don’t need to bestow it,” she whispered. “Maybe… the lake…” She bit her lip, glancing out over the clear blue water. “His mother always said there was magic in this water. That it was pure.”

“Of course,” Sir George muttered. “Of course! There are times when the magic of Mother Earth is what’s needed. And this, perhaps, is one of those times.” He shook his head. “I can’t be sure it will work, Annie. Earth’s magic only works for those most deserving. But it’s the only chance he has.”

He straightened then, and held his hands out over Ren’s body. Annie felt her husband’s all but lifeless form begin to vibrate, and she sat up, gasping.

Sir George knelt beside Ren, touched him, and began to push him toward the dock’s edge… but then he stopped and closed his eyes. “I can’t,” he whispered. “I haven’t the strength to risk it.”

Annie stared down at the pallor of Ren’s face. “I have,” she said. And before she could change her mind, she pushed Ren’s lifeless body with all her might. He rolled into the water with a splash and immediately sank beneath the deep blue surface.