Tempered (A Daughters of the People Novel) (Daughters of the People Series) (23 page)

She crept toward
the front of her house and found Colin lying facedown in the hedge near the
walkway, out of sight though not hidden well. Her probing fingers found a hard
lump at the base of his skull and a thready pulse. He stirred silently under
her hand, making not the slightest moan as he rose to consciousness.

Such was the
training of a Son.

Pride rose
within her for the man Colin had become. He and Levi had been friends since her
great-grandson’s arrival in the States at the age of six. They had grown up
together and spent hours romping through her home and the surrounding
countryside. It had been a pleasure to watch them become men, to instill the
values of her ancestors in them even as they became individuals, strong and
determined and more than worthy of their stature as beloved Sons.

When Aaron had
needed protection, Colin had been her first pick. She trusted him as well as
she trusted her daughters and their progeny, down to Levi and Ruby and Lali. He
was a good man and nearly as much a member of her family as they. How any
mother could abandon one such as him was beyond her.

She leaned down
and placed her lips next to his ear. “Allow three minutes to pass before
locating your team.”

His nod was so
slight as to be imperceptible. She squeezed his shoulder and rose, picked her
way silently through the frost-coated grass and up the steps to the porch,
clinging to the railing, testing each wooden slat carefully before placing her
full weight upon it.

The front door
stood slightly ajar, its lock scratched so minutely only she would notice the
scars. Hawthorne drew her sword from its sheath and placed a hand upon the
door, pushing lightly. It swung open easily, baring the empty, shadowed foyer
to her gaze. She peeked inside, listened attentively for the slightest noise.

Lali’s piercing
scream sounded from the entrance to the basement halfway across the house’s
width. The noise cut off abruptly. Hawthorne pushed the tension from her
muscles, relaxing in spite of the leaden beat of her heart and the oppressive
silence of her home.

Ahead of her,
the floor squeaked.

She slipped
through the entrance into the foyer quiet as a church mouse and stationed herself
in the doorway leading to the living room. A sallow light filtered through the
open front door into the hallway, piercing the deep shadow. She trained her
eyes on the area from which the squeak had come, not far from the entrance to
the basement, and waited.

And was rewarded
for her patience when Isolde moved silently into the thin light, Lali clasped
firmly to her chest.

Hawthorne
stepped into her niece’s path, her sword held point down. “It is late for a
visit.”

Isolde halted,
her face an impassive mask. “I would have knocked had you been home.”

“Perhaps,”
Hawthorne acknowledged with a nod. “Or perhaps you would have snuck into my
bedroom and slain me as I lay sleeping.”

“Death is not my
objective tonight, Hawthorne.”

“Then you will
not mind allowing my granddaughter to go free.”

A thin smile
touched Isolde’s cold lips. “She goes with me. After all this time, can you
begrudge me the gift of this child, a daughter to carry on my line and memory?”

Lali’s eyes went
wide above the hand Isolde held firmly over her mouth.

“She is not your
daughter,” Hawthorne said, “nor have I the right to gift her to another.”

“Ah, yes. Ruby
the Unready.” Isolde’s smile grew into true amusement. “She is a tad indisposed
at the moment, certainly not in any shape to negotiate Lali’s future.”

The groan of a
wooden tread drifted from the basement. Isolde shifted slightly, angling her
back to the wall. Hawthorne hefted her sword in both hands and rested it upon
her left shoulder.

“Lali’s future
is with her family, with me and Aaron and Ruby, when she is able.”

Isolde scoffed
as she faced Hawthorne again. “Aaron,” she spat. “A mortal man raising an
immortal Daughter? What were you thinking, Hawthorne?”

“That a mortal
man can love as well and true as a Son.”

Isolde laughed.
“Is that so?”

“It is so.”
Behind Isolde, Aaron eased into view, bracing a hand against the corner of the
wall and his weight on a hanbō. Hawthorne monitored his progress as he
teetered down the hallway, careful to keep her gaze on Isolde and Isolde’s
attention on herself. “Is your irrational distrust of men the reason you
aligned yourself with the Eternal Order?”

“I aligned
myself with the Order, as you put it, in order to prevent a travesty.” Isolde
jerked Lali upward, tightening her grip. “This child you profess to love will
have her immortality broken should the Prophecy come to pass, and with that
comes frailty and death. The path of her life will no longer be hers to
decide.”

“Have our lives
ever been our own, Isolde? Truly?” Aaron lifted the hanbō slowly over his
head. Hawthorne shook her head slightly. Goddess help her, he was going to use
it as a stick, a strategy that would be useful in any situation other than this
one, with Lali held so tightly in Isolde’s grasp, inches away from losing her
life to the twist of hard hands. Had the dear man learned nothing from her?
“The People were forever altered when the Sisters were cursed. A vengeful god
set us on this path against the wills of our mothers, against all reason and
sense and hope. The Prophecy rights that wrong for all of us.”

“The Prophecy
takes what is rightfully ours and delivers us into the hands of our enemies.”
Isolde loosened her grip on Lali and her expression melted into one of
pleading. “Why do you not understand?”

“I do, beloved
niece. I understand that your fear of dying pushes you into a place even your
thirst for power does not reach.” Hawthorne swung her sword off of her
shoulder, falling into an attack position with her left foot to the rear and
her arms raised, pointing the tip of the sword toward Isolde’s heart. Aaron
swayed unsteadily as he mirrored her position, with the hanbō pointed a
foot away from the space between Isolde’s shoulder blades. “This, I can
remedy.”

Isolde drew Lali
ever closer, tightening her grip. Lali closed her eyes and panted sharp breaths
through her nose, her face pale and tense in the moonlight washing through the
open door.

“You would not
dare,” Isolde said, “not with your precious progeny in the way.”

“Think you that
I could not strike without harming her?” Hawthorne allowed humor to bleed into
her expression. “Yet again, you underestimate the abilities of another to
protect a loved one.”

Aaron leapt,
shoving the hanbō into Isolde’s back with all of his strength. Isolde
jolted forward, her grip on Lali slipping enough for the young girl to break free
and drop to the floor in a writhing heap. She scrambled around Isolde’s legs,
kicking and slapping as Isolde reached for her. Hawthorne surged forward,
lashing out with the butt of her sword. It connected with the crown of Isolde’s
head with a solid thud and she crumpled to the floor, nearly taking a skidding
Lali with her.

Lali flung
herself at Aaron, sobbing his name. He dropped to his knees and caught her. Over
her head, his eyes met Hawthorne’s. In them, she saw the love they shared for
Lali and a steady determination to protect the child at all costs.

Colin burst
through the front door and skidded to a stop just as Ruby stumbled down the
stairs from the second floor, clutching her head in one hand and the stair’s
railing with the other.

“The cavalry’s
here.” Aaron dropped onto his ass and teetered to the side. “Thank God.”

Hawthorne
breathed out a laugh. “You did well, Aaron Kesselman.”

“Yeah. Gotta lay
down now.”

Aaron collapsed
onto the floor, taking Lali with him. Hawthorne’s heart leapt into her throat.
She raced through the hallway and knelt by his side, running unsteady hands over
the cuts on the back of his head. Her hand came away bloody. Nausea roiled
through her stomach, lockstep with the first tendrils of anger. How many times
had Isolde hit him?

Colin squatted
down on the other side of Aaron’s prone form. “I called an ambulance, told them
to come in silent. We’ll get everybody sorted out.”

Hawthorne nodded
and curled her fingers into a fist around Aaron’s blood. He lay silently on the
floor, his breaths uneven, Lali cradled at his side.

Ruby slumped
onto the bare floor beside Hawthorne. “Looks like Isolde gave us all goose
eggs.”

“And received
one of her own.” Hawthorne tugged Ruby into a one-armed hug and touched Lali’s
disheveled locks with the other. The little girl clung to Aaron’s shirt, her
thin shoulders heaving, her sobs muffled. “We shall be safe now, all of us.”

“Thanks to
Aaron,” Ruby said.

“Thanks to each
of you,” Hawthorne corrected. “Though Aaron played his part well, for a mere
mortal.”

Ruby snorted.

Aaron lifted one
eyelid and peered solemnly at her. “I heard that.”

Hawthorne
laughed and pressed a tender kiss to his beautiful mouth. This man had saved
Lali. Though he had barely been able to stand steadily, he had collected his
wits and acted wisely.

Isolde stirred,
her clothes rustling, disturbing the stillness surrounding them.

Colin pushed
himself into a stand. “I got this.”

Hawthorne
observed the casual way the young man clocked Isolde on the head with his
massive fist and dragged the errant Daughter’s limp body out the front door.
Yes, she had trusted the right man with the protection of her loved ones.

Her gaze strayed
to Aaron, pale under his natural tan, his arm curled around Lali, protecting
her even as he lay upon the floor unable to protect himself. Hawthorne had
trusted him to follow her lead and he had, in turn, trusted her to provide the
correct guidance. Perhaps hope yet remained between them.

Aaron remembered
very little of the next few hours. Most of it was one endless blur of people
and light and noise. The paramedics who checked him over, the short ride to the
hospital, the frazzled nurse who assessed the damage Isolde had done to all of
them and clucked her tongue. “Been a madhouse around here tonight,” she told
Hawthorne. “Had an attack on the Oracle. India Furia. The Blade’s dealing with
it now.”

He had no idea
what they were talking about. Thankfully, no one expected him to. His head
throbbed and his vision wavered and his shoulders were stiff where Isolde had
bludgeoned him. Lali clung to him, refusing to let go, and finally, everybody
stopped trying to separate them.

Hours later,
after x-rays and another check by a yawning doctor, Hawthorne took him and Ruby
and Lali home in her SUV, leaving Colin, Brigid, and the rest of the security
team behind for further care. Isolde had stabbed one of the women and broken
one man’s arm. Brigid had a concussion. Colin had skated through with a knot on
his head and a couple of bruises.

Aaron tried to
find compassion around the ache in his head. Those men and women had been
injured guarding him and Lali. He slumped against the rear seat of Hawthorne’s
SUV, shifting into a comfortable position. Maybe when his own concussion
healed, he’d find some gratitude for their help. For now, he was simply
grateful they’d all made it through Isolde’s attack alive.

Lali rested her
head on his arm, fast asleep, her tiny fingers clutching the flannel shirt
Hawthorne had helped him into. Tears stained the little girl’s cheeks and her
face was pale in the predawn light. When he’d woken to find her gone, all he’d
thought of was finding her again. Determination had propelled him in staggering
zigzags through the vault and up the stairs. Thank God he’d taken a stick with
him, though he’d intended it more for balance than anything.

When he’d
rounded the corner into the hallway and realized that Isolde held Lali, his
heart had frozen in his chest. It was a miracle the woman hadn’t heard him
clamoring around. At the time, the tiniest noise had seemed to rebound through
the air, as loud as a shrill siren over the thunder of his heartbeat.

And Hawthorne
had stood there, casually blocking Isolde’s path, showing him what to do as if
they’d worked together hundreds of times before. She’d trusted him to help her,
trusted
him
, the man who had rejected her truth over and over again.

That vault
.

What little energy
he had left seeped from him in a mad rush. His head lolled on the back of the
seat and he closed his eyes against the blur of the passing scenery. Sleep
first and then they’d talk, concussion be damned. It was past time for them to
sort out their problems, long past time for him to repay Hawthorne’s trust and
patience with a little of his own.

They ended up
bunking down in the same room together. Aaron tucked a sleeping Lali into the
little girl’s bed while Ruby dragged out an electrically inflatable mattress
and Hawthorne made the rounds in the house, securing it. She entered Lali’s
room carrying extra pillows and bedding, and refused to let him help make up
the air mattress or move it close to Lali’s side of the bed. Finally, they all
slipped into bed, Ruby with Lali, and Hawthorne and Aaron on the floor next to
them, cushioned from its unforgiving hardness by the portable bed.

He held her
close, ignoring the pain stabbing through his temples. She skimmed gentle hands
over him and the tension lingering after a raw, hectic night slid away.

“I’m ok,” he
murmured. “Doctor said so.”

“A concussion is
not ok, Aaron. Had I anticipated Isolde’s actions…”

He pressed a
finger to her soft lips. “None of that, now. Nobody could’ve known she’d come
here.”

“I should have.”

“No, Hawthorne.
Even you couldn’t have known that.”

Her breath
feathered across his face. “You did well tonight.”

He huffed out a
laugh. Pain rocketed through his sinuses and he winced. “I had no idea what I
was doing. Thank God Lali had the presence of mind to come get me.”

“She led you to
the vault?”

“Yeah, through
the walls.” He stifled a yawn. “Had no idea those passages were there.”

She brushed his
hair back from his forehead. “We shall discuss the house’s layout on the
morrow, love.”

“Among other
things.”

“Shush, now, and
find your rest. Lali will rise early.”

He ran his hands
down Hawthorne’s slender back, tucking her tightly against him. It felt so good
to hold her again, just hold her and share her warmth. “Promise me one thing.”

“Yes?”

“Promise you’ll
never leave us again.”

She tucked a
hand under his t-shirt, curved it over the bare skin of his waist. “I shan’t,
not unless it is unavoidable.”

Behind them,
Ruby shifted restlessly. The rustle of covers reminded Aaron that he and
Hawthorne weren’t alone. He closed his eyes as Morpheus’ steady hand tugged him
under. Tomorrow, he promised himself. Tomorrow, he would choose to believe, not
because of any proof Hawthorne offered him, but because of the strength of her
word and the love he held for her. He yawned, mumbled an indistinct
I love
you
into her hair, and fell asleep, secure in the promise of her love.

* * *

Maria came in
early the next day and fixed a huge breakfast. Hawthorne heaped food onto
plates for Aaron and Lali and Ruby, so thankful was she to have them safely at
home.

The night
before, Colin had dropped a bound and gagged Isolde off at the IECS guard
station at the main entrance. She’d been taken to a secure room deep within the
mountain housing the Archives, there to await the judgment of the Council of
Seven.

Hawthorne placed
her own plate of food on the kitchen table and took the chair next to Aaron. If
the Blade’s beloved son had not been in the hospital, Hawthorne had no doubt
Rebecca Upton would, at that moment, be knocking on the front door, demanding
an explanation. Soon, Hawthorne would be forced to make a decision regarding
the position on the Council once filled by Isolde.

As one of the
eldest Daughters in the line of Bagda, if not
the
eldest, Hawthorne’s duty
paved a clear path through her future. She had eschewed it once in favor of
Isolde, and could now no longer indulge in the luxury of passing duty’s mantle
to another.

She cast a wary
glance at Aaron from the corner of her eye and stifled a sigh. Duty assumed
many forms, but it could not be forced. She had not submitted her will to her
lover when she had trusted him to help her defeat Isolde and rescue Lali. The
love growing within her would wither without that trust, yet how could she
extend it knowing he did not trust her in return?

His arm brushed
hers as he reached for Lali’s napkin. The fabric of his shirt clung to the
sweater Hawthorne wore, tugging at it much as he tugged at her. They could not
go on as they had been, with the truth an unscalable, impenetrable wall between
them.

She seized her
chance to knock a small portion of that wall down during Lali’s nap. When the
little one had fallen into a deep sleep, Hawthorne coaxed Aaron away from the
guard he kept. She entwined her fingers with his and led him quietly down the
stairs. “You will spoil her with your attention.”

His shoulders
lifted in a casual shrug. “She deserves a little spoiling. Besides, it’s not
putting me out to care for her.”

“What you do
goes well beyond care. She will cling to you as long as you allow it.”

“Then let her
cling,” he said in a flat voice. “I’m not pushing her away, not after
everything she’s been through.”

Hawthorne paused
outside the door to the basement. “Pushing her away and encouraging her to
stand on her own are two different things, Aaron.”

“She’s four,
hardly old enough to stand on her own, as you put it.”

“She’s a
Daughter.”

“And? It’s not
like she has to go out and fight the world right now, is it?”

“Did she not
just do so?”

“That was
different.”

“Not as much as
you believe.” Hawthorne opened the door and flipped on the stairwell light.
“Come. We have much to discuss.”

She led him down
the narrow stairs, past the now-hidden entrance to the passages snaking through
the walls, and into the basement. “I bought this house upon Ruby’s birth more
than half a century ago. The owners, a mortal Daughter and her mate, had
refitted the basement as a fallout shelter. I expanded on their work,
reinforcing the walls, adding this door and a tougher security system and,
eventually, a series of climate control units. Place your right-hand thumb
here.”

Aaron scrubbed
his thumb on his thigh and pressed it to the screen of the security system.
“Why am I doing this?”

“So that you may
access the vault at will.” She flipped quickly through the steps for setting a
new entrance code. “For now, your password is ‘puppy.’ You may change it, if
you like.”

One corner of
his mouth lifted into a crooked smile. “Puppy’s fine. I didn’t get a chance to
really explore this last night.”

“You will.” She
swung the door open, felt for the light switches, and sighed as the light
illuminated the weapons scattered across the floor. “I see Isolde had her fun.”

“I’m afraid that
was all me. She whacked me pretty hard and I sort of staggered through here.”
He rubbed the back of his head in an absent-minded gesture. “You’re lucky I
didn’t bring the shelving down. Think I left the books I was reading near
Lali’s bed.”

Hawthorne paused
in the middle of gathering staffs of various sizes from the floor and sorting
them into their proper holders. “Oh? Which ones caught your attention?”

“The
leather-bound volumes near the entrance. Like this one.” He tapped the glass
case holding the earliest book in her collection. “Fascinating stuff.”

“Hmm.”

His gaze met
hers, truly open for the first time. “Did you write them?”

“I did.”

“All of them?”

She turned away
from him, unwilling to see the disbelief she was sure would bleed into his
expression, and gave her attention to the weapons she had collected over the
years. “Yes.”

He tapped the case
again. “Even this one here?”

“Yes.” Her hand
tightened on her first hanbō, the wood worn smooth from hours of practice
under the tutelage of an ancient sensei who had once lived in a remote village
on a tiny island near what was now Japan. “I began that one a few years after
my mother’s death, once justice had been served.”

“So it’s a
diary.” His voice was as careful as the words he chose. “How old were you when
you started it?”

“Perhaps
sixteen, before I learned to keep a careful record of the date on which events
occurred.” Curiosity pressed at her, outweighing the uncertainty. She pivoted
on her heel and faced him, released a breath she had not known she held at the
acceptance in his expression. “So much time has passed since then.”

“Too much. You
mind if we sit down? I’m getting a little dizzy, surrounded by all this
history.”

More likely, his
head hurt and he was too stubbornly proud to admit it.

They wound up in
the corner of the vault where Lali’s emergency sleeping quarters were set up.
Aaron picked up the rag doll Lali slept with and dropped onto the bed, sitting
with his back against the wall and the doll in his lap.

Hawthorne
righted the chair he had used the evening before, retrieved the two volumes
lying scattered on the floor. A few pages were bent, though none were torn and
the binding held firm. She smoothed out the pages and placed the books on the
chair.

He patted the
space next to him. “Plenty of room here.”

“We must talk.”

“Yeah, I guess.
Might as well be comfortable while we do it, though.” He patted the bed again.
“Let me hold you.”

A plea she could
never resist, not when it came from him. She crawled onto the small bed and
curled into him with her head on his chest, snuggling within his comforting embrace.

“I have a
feeling there’s more to your story than what you’ve told me, a lot more.” He
murmured the words into her hair, brushed his cheek across the top of her head.
“I don’t get how it’s all connected yet, but a lot of people have handed me different
pieces of it, like the prophecy Isolde was talking about last night and the
goddess everybody refers to and how a lot of women around here claim to be
really old.”

“It is an
ancient tale, Aaron, and a complicated one. Are you certain you wish to hear
it?”

“If it helps me
understand you, yeah, I am.” He rubbed his cheek over her hair again, savoring
the silky slide of it against his skin. “Tell me.”

She sighed into
his chest, breathing in his warm scent. “A hundred hundred years ago, seven
sisters lived with their parents. They were part of a band of nomadic
hunter-gatherers living, we believe, in what is now Anatolia. They called
themselves the People.”