Chapter 50
Cavalry
Twin floodlights shot down through gaping holes in the roof, and suddenly, the damage—once hidden by shadow and gloom—was now illuminated in shocking detail. The ruined monastery was a crime scene. Ancient stone met modern glare, but by the time it registered for Jess, the lights and the percussive thumping of the rescue aircraft rotors had faded.
Jess was somewhere else, deep inside her grief, drowning again in a storm of memory and regret. Guilt was a rising tide, and failure began to wash over her.
This time, it wasn’t a lover. Not a partner.
It was her.
The dazzling woman who saw her. Stayed, then waited, and now had given everything.
Footsteps crunched over debris. Shadowed figures approached—Isabel in battle-scarred armor, her face grim and pale. Miren, her robes streaked with soot and torn by close-quarter combat. They emerged from the darkness, summoning orbs to illuminate the damage, but they saw Jess on the floor with Callie, clinging to her like a ghost, refusing to let go.
Isabel rushed forward, and Jess snapped.
In a blur, she dropped Callie as if she were a burden to be defended. Jess whirled, bloodied and feral, trying to call up magic, but her hands were too slick and trembling. She could barely hold a defensive stance before her legs buckled.
Collapsing into a heap beside Callie’s still form, her scream was hoarse, reverberating through the building.
“No…No, I didn’t mean to…Callie. CALLIE.”
The thup thup thup of twin air ambulances dimmed as they landed just beyond the collapsed narthex, their lights sweeping the scene, illuminating the bodies of the fallen. A thick protective shield was going up to enclose the yard and encase the broken structure of the chapel. More aligned witches had gathered along the deep perimeter of the grounds. They were erecting the pulsing shield to deter the Hierarchy—or perhaps the real world—from discovering this abomination.
Worse, trying to participate.
Inside, Jess’s jaw clenched as rage again bubbled up. Her spine straightened, and her hands shook with the plain truth of the night. Jess tried to stand like a beast gathering itself.
Illumination orbs pulsed like perverse candlelight inside the chapel.
As Miren called for one to hover over Callie’s body, the light caught the blood smeared across Jess’s face, her arms, and her mouth. Again, she slipped to her knees.
The replay of Callie’s last words hit like a blunt object.
“You lied,” Jess whispered over Callie’s broken body. “You knew. You saw it all and let it happen. You said you were okay with just being here. Still, you threw yourself in front of me.”
Her voice rose, each word edged with agony. “I didn’t ask for this…I didn’t deserve this. You always had a secret…”
Jess’s arm swung back, her bloody fingers finding enough traction to create an orb. Her magic was gathering—rage and betrayal untethered.
And then—
A hand was on her wrist. Warm. Steady. Undeniably human.
Jess froze.
Slowly, she turned her head and looked up, blinking through tears, her heart pounding like a war drum.
“Mom,” Camden said quietly, but his tone instantly cut through the noise in her head. “We brought help. Special help.”
He began to tug on his mother’s arm, trying to back her away.
More footsteps approached, then a voice—hushed, sure—as a woman broke through the group, kneeling down to Callie, a satchel over her shoulder.
“Mom,” Cam stuttered, taking in Callie’s thready condition, “this is Robin, she’s…you need to let her work.”
Jess’s face wrinkled and drew back, having to process yet another crisis. She looked at Camden with a brief flicker of regret, knowing in an instant that he was now part of her world.
It was all too much, and Jess sobbed, falling into her son’s arms. Trying to remain strong, Cam gathered her in but took a step back to let the doctor prepare.
About Jess’s age, Robin was dressed in black, making her look less like a healer and more like some kind of morbid saint. Her sudden presence wasn’t soothing; it was commanding.
Jess heard whispering behind her as witches from the battle gathered to watch. While they intended to support Jess and Callie, one slipped and murmured the nickname of the new healer:
The Mortician.
Jess’s thoughts were already divided. Now, it was worse. She allowed herself a moment to close her eyes, but over and over, all she could see was Callie lunging at her.
“H-how did you get here?” Jess asked Cam, trying to sit upright. She glanced at Robin, fearing his answer, but Cam nodded.
“I rode with her in one of the helicopters. We’ve been in a standoff position for about an hour.”
“Standoff,” Jess exhaled slowly. “Jeezus, Cam.”
And she turned to watch Robin begin triaging Callie’s injuries.
Robin wasn’t looking at Jess directly, yet the mysterious healer worked quickly and efficiently to cut away fabric and Callie’s bra strap. Her hands were steady. Pulling back the top of Callie’s charcoal undershirt to expose the long wound, Robin recoiled—then stared.
She reached into her bag and brought out surgical tweezers, then angled to snag a shard of the stone that still protruded from Callie’s skin.
As the instrument neared the little jagged fragment, it moved—only to bury itself under Callie’s skin.
Robin sat back, eyes wide, then watched a fresh swell of blood rise from the wound. She mouthed a curse word, then cleared her throat.
After more rummaging, she brought out two long crystals, studied the collective length of the damage, and then placed a crystal on each side of Callie’s clavicle.
Securing the healing stones with tape, she stared at the arrangement for a moment, then moved on.
“That will help with blood flow,” she said quietly, as if justifying her moment of indecision. “Let’s see what else we have.”
She directed one of the air ambulance attendants to help roll Callie to her side.
Blood had pooled and was thickening as Robin saw the wound.
“Oh, fuck,” she gasped, then directed one of the attendants to shine a light on Callie’s injury.
“It’s a piece of wood,” she said softly, giving a gruesome play-by-play to the attendant, “like a blade. Clean though,” she added, “must have come from the roof.”
Robin sat back on her haunches. “Pressure bandages on that laceration. The other superficial cuts and contusions—we can deal with them later. We’ll X-ray at the hospital.”
She spun her finger in a circle.
“Fire up the chariots.”
Outside, turbines began to whine, and the rotation of safety lights strobed across the grass as the air ambulances readied for take-off.
Jess stood quickly, but Robin had anticipated her.
“No,” she snapped. “I need to go with her. Stabilize as needed. Don’t argue with me.”
Jess didn’t say a word, just clutched onto Camden, and they waited until Callie was hoisted, still and fetal, onto a backboard.
The solemn procession made its way out of the sanctuary and toward the waiting helicopters.
Suddenly, Jess broke away, rushing to Callie. She only had time to tuck a length of matted hair behind Callie’s ear and whisper something. Cam caught up to steady her.
Isabel shared a quick conversation with Miren, then ran to talk to Jess.
“We’ll follow,” she said, her teary eyes betraying the severity of the situation. “It’s a thirty-minute flight. We’ll be there in a little over an hour. All of us.”
Isabel saw Jess rear up.
“Dear God,” she shrieked, realizing how much risk everyone had endured, “is everyone…are they okay?”
“Some bumps and bruises,” Isabel acknowledged, “plus we had a little help, too.” She winced. “Sorry, we’ll talk later when Callie’s…on the mend.”
“A little help,” Jess repeated, then looked at Cam. “Yeah, we’re gonna have a conversation.”
She watched as two extended vans pulled up to the sanctuary.
“Looks like you have everything covered.” Her voice was flat, barely able to hide her anger.