“She’s alive,” he answered. “It’s a start.”
Stacia nodded. “That’s good at least.” But she sounded empty. Shock.
To help her understand . . .
“Your mom,” he began. “It was a good death.” He’d already discarded any bad feeling over Scarlet stabbing him, had determined to win her trust. But he hadn’t expected to love her. She’d bought Cari a minute more of life—a critical minute—with her own. It was an easy trade for a parent. It didn’t require any thought, not even bravery, really. All personal considerations disappear when your child faces danger.
“I don’t understand what happened,” Zel said.
Mason inhaled to explain what he could, but the door flew open, cutting him off.
Armored angels filled the threshold, shining with purpose, ready to do battle with darkness. A clamor of far-away voices was behind them.
Mason shook his head. “You’re too late. Cari and Scarlet beat her.”
Further explanations would have to wait.
“The fae queen is dead?” They’d be searching his mind about now.
“Gone,” Mason corrected. “Back to Shadow.”
A stunned pause, and then movement as Laurence pushed to the fore. “Let’s get you out of here.”
Mason wouldn’t relinquish Cari, but was grateful for the assistance of two angels at his back, just in case. They were led up the stairs again and into noise and chaos and darkness. Shadowman was gone, and Mason hoped it was by his own power. Shattering glass had him bending over to shield Cari.
“No more Sha-dow! No more Sha-dow,” voices chanted.
The angels urged his little group on, fast, to the front door.
Fire and smoke clogged the dark rooms and passageways. But he’d caught the gist: the mob was overrunning the house. They would not tolerate magic, especially after the unnatural darkness wrought by Maeve.
“We’ll save what we can,” Laurence said in his ear.
The way they were moved through the insanity without drawing attention made Mason think that the Order was buffering them from the interest of the mob, even though the witch everyone wanted was clutched in his embrace.
But the Order could not interfere with human free will—and it was the mob’s will that Cari Dolan’s house should be looted and destroyed. It was a scene out of place and time, but even as he was rushed outside, Cari in his arms, her sisters behind him, to escape and safety, Mason knew without a doubt—
The Dark Age was here.
Epilogue
Cari lived in a dream.
Each morning she woke in a spoon of warmth, Mason’s strong arm around her. And as she turned into his heat, his calloused hands would begin to move over her, tracing lines of pleasure. He moved within her, whispering strange things, until she drew up tight inside and started her day shattered in bliss.
She learned to be calm when Fletcher made the most noise, and to seek him out when the kid went quiet for more than two minutes. She played in his tree house and always knew where to find him, even when his father could not. Fletcher’s umbra was always in her mind, trouble in the making.
She couldn’t worry about anything, though she tried. But the calculating parts of her mind, the Dolan parts, were sleeping. She knew that Zel had chosen to live with the family of her betrothed. And Stacia, who’d wanted a job, had found one working for Brand. The rest of the Dolan clan had their stipends and lived quietly. Humans did not like mages, though the greater danger was now coming from the fae. All that she put away. No more pain, please.
Sometimes the light was so bright and the wind so soft on Mason’s island that she couldn’t help crying, nor stop after beginning. And then she asked questions, among them, “If Dolan is gone, who am I?”
And Mason would surround her again until she didn’t care and her mind was at peace. She was a Stray. Or would be when he finished his making.
“It’s not going well,” he said one day, dropping into a chair across from her at the dining table used for everything but dining. Between his thumb and first finger was a princess-cut diamond. Five carats, if she had to guess. Scarlet’s had been about that size, but Cari’s mind wouldn’t go there either.
She had an idea what the stone was for, though she was living that fantasy already. “Not going well?”
He shrugged and sighed, obviously tired after hours in his shop, but there was a gleam behind his eyes. Trouble. Like father, like son. She smiled.
“I’ve been working on your ring and on the Umbra project.”
Umbra. DolanCo. The asleep part of her got darker, more knotted.
Mason did that sometimes. Nudged her in uncomfortable places. And he watched her, as if he were studying her again.
“Umbra is coming along. I actually tried your father’s membrane.”
More uncomfortable words. She let them slide right through her. Held on to her peace. Because if she let go, she might crumble, just like—
“Then I tried to apply the technique to your diamond. I wanted a way to somehow bind us together”—his gaze sought a little more deeply into hers—“and I thought the diamond would be a good way to do it. You know, our future.”
Why did he push her? He had to know that they were already bound. Couldn’t he just let them go on like this? Happy?
“I’m pretty sure instead that I made a ward stone.”
Ward stone. Blackness flashed in Cari’s vision. Maeve killing Scarlet. Mason’s bloody face. The cries from her sisters. A scream rose in her own throat. “Is it—?”
He reached out and put his warm hand on hers. “No. You’re not connected to her anymore. You’re in that stone, but connected to me. Try though I might, Fletcher actually has eluded me. Probably because he’s got Walker blood.”
Mason’s words were full of hurt, so Cari turned her hand over, palm up, to squeeze his back.
“So I have a Stray ward stone,” he said. “It’ll be pricey to get the five others I’ll need to match it.”
The darkness in her mind was loosening, her breath coming faster. “If you have a ward stone, you aren’t a stray.” But it was an afterthought, because something in her brain was turning.
Money wasn’t an issue. She thought quickly of the DolanCo spreadsheets. The number at the bottom, in black. There was more than enough for ward stones. Safety. House. Ward stones were priceless.
A shiver ran over Cari as she touched the stone with her finger—how had she not noticed that part of her umbra had been captured inside, twined with Mason’s?
She felt it now. Felt it now like a lifeline she could follow back to life.
“If not ‘Stray,’ then what will our House be called?” Those watchful eyes of Mason’s were on her. Had been searching. Had found her. He’d never let her go. He was even now asking, “Are you still with me?”
Yes. Always. She’d just been sleeping for a while.
“Maker.” Cari drew a deep breath. A waking breath. “We will be Maker House.”