Of Blood and Bone (Chronicles of The One #2)(119)

“Okay. Tonight’s good. It’s soon enough.”

“This is a good place, Fallon, do you feel that? Not just New Hope, this place.”

She hadn’t let herself feel yet, but nodded.

“It’ll be good for your dad and the boys while we’re away from home. Living in town, for however long we’re here? It would squeeze at them. And you, too, I think.”

“There’s another empty house.” Fallon gestured across the roll of lawn, past the little copse of trees, to a two-story structure of cedar shakes that had gone sad and gray with time and weather. “It could be a barracks.”

Lana might have sighed, but she nodded. “You want soldiers nearby. I imagine there are other houses in this area, too.”

“We’ll need some. And the land between this house and that. I know you and dad might look and see crops growing, but we need training camps. We need space for drilling, an obstacle course, archery.”

Together they watched a herd of ten deer wander out of the trees to graze on the green.

“I can put in a kitchen garden. Eddie and Fred have their farm, we have the community gardens. We have the horses,” Lana went on. “We can barter for some chickens. It’ll be enough to keep your dad happy. In any case, I think he’ll be more with you than the land for some time to come.”

It pinched at her. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no. No sorrys.”

“It is a good place,” Fallon said. “But we’re outside the perimeter of New Hope security. We’ll need to add some.”

“We will. For now, let’s get our things inside, and you should see your room. You have your own bath and sitting area.”

“I have to go somewhere. Through the crystal. It won’t take long.”

She did like her room, the size, the privacy. The big heavy bed frame curved—her mother called it a sleigh bed. It didn’t boast a mattress or bedding, but she had a bedroll until they found the rest. She liked having her own bath—holding both tub and a glass-walled shower five times the size of the one she’d helped build in Mallick’s cottage.

She’d need a desk or workbench, so she could spread out her maps, plans, reports.

The sitting room had wide glass doors—did these people have no concern about security?—that led out to another spread of flat rocks.

The rest of the level held a family room, a home theater—terms her mother used that reminded Fallon what different worlds they came from—a bar, not for eating but for drinking.

As soon as she could slip away, she closed herself in her new room with the air still stale despite the breeze through the windows they’d opened, and took out her globe.

She slipped through, smelled the green, the earth, the thriving garden.

Mallick wore his big hat with the net as he worked with the bees.

She’d been away from him and here, she realized, nearly as long as she’d been with him. But she knew the music of the bubbling stream, the afternoon shadows, the scent of rosemary thriving in a patch of sunlight.

He turned, honey bucket in hand, saw her.

“Blessed be, Mallick the Sorcerer.”

“Blessed be, Fallon Swift.” He lifted the net as he walked toward her. “You’re taller.”

“Yeah, some, but I think I’m finished.”

“There’s tea already steeped. I’d be glad for a cup, a cool one, when I’m done with this.”

She went inside, and since he’d take longer than she would, walked up to the workshop. The scents of dried herbs, crushed crystals, oils—and the overlaying tinge of magicks—were familiar.

Though she did wonder what he meant to do with the papery bat wings he had pinned to a board.

She went down, found cheese and bread, berries.

When he came in, she had the tea and a plate of food for him.

“You won’t have bread and cheese?”

“I’ve eaten. In New Hope.”

He sat, nodded. “I saw a star shoot across the sky last night, and the shower of light that rained from it. I should have expected you.”

“And I should ask how you are, how our neighbors are.”

“Well. All. And your family?”

“The same.”

“We aren’t ones for chatter, so as all are well, tell me why you’ve come.”

“I have need for you, Mallick. For you, for Thomas and his people, for the faeries and shifters, the pixies and nymphs and all the rest. The waiting time’s ended. The time of preparation’s already begun. I need your help.”

He ate in silence a moment. Did he think, she wondered, about his quiet life here? The bees, his garden, bat wings pinned to a board?

“I have been, am, always will be at your service. What do you need from me?”

“Your skills, your leadership, your gifts.” She took out a map, spread it. “I need you here.”

“What will I find there?”

“Recruits. Very raw, but willing. You’ll speak first with a man named John Little.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE


Though Lana called it a meeting, it struck Fallon as more of a party. People crowded in the house, filled the air with voices and laughter. Wine filled glasses; party food filled plates.