Tempest Reborn

Book 6: Jane True

by Nicole Peeler

Genres: Fantasy Romance; Fantasy; General Fiction

Synopsis

Anyan may be trapped in an evil dragon and Blondie may be gone, but Jane knows one thing: she's not about to give up. She's ready to tear down heaven and earth to save her lover, despite those who believe he's lost.



Luckily for Jane, those who've given up on Anyan do not include those closest to her. Defying The Powers That Be, Jane and company form their own crack squad of misfits, in whose hands the fate of the world may well rest.



With a little help from her friends, the Universe, and lots of snacks, Jane embarks on her greatest adventure yet, confident that with great sacrifice comes great reward. The question is, who will be that sacrifice?

Release date: May 28, 2013

Publisher: Orbit

Print pages: 368

Sample

The story so far…

At the end of Eye of the Tempest, Jane found herself the champion of her supernatural brethren, cast to battle an ancient evil. Forces working for her nemesis, Morrigan, wanted to awaken the Red and the White, beings that took the shape of dragons and who thrived on chaos and destruction.

In Tempest Fury, Jane traveled with Anyan and the Original, Blondie, to Great Britain in order to keep Morrigan from her goal. There, Jane learned more about her supernatural heritage and the structures that kept it both secret and secure. Morrigan, however, threatened both. Her behavior became increasingly erratic, including very public attacks that risked the secrecy of their species.

For Morrigan was keeping her own secrets. She’d merged with the Red, whose corporeal form was mostly destroyed by the former champion, Blondie. But the dragon had found a way to resurrect herself by merging with another. Morrigan/the Red could shapeshift between Alfar and dragon, or a hybrid of both.

Having a way to resurrect themselves, the Red’s goal was now to awaken her consort, the White. Jarl, Morrigan’s lover who murdered his own brother, King Orin, was the Red/Morrigan’s chosen vessel for the White.

Jarl, however, was less keen on merging with a dragon than Morrigan, and had to be kept under armed guard while Jane, Anyan, and Blondie were themselves busy trying to keep the bones of the White out of Morrigan’s hands. Morrigan needed those ancient relics to resurrect the White, and so Jane’s mission appeared simple: Keep Morrigan away from the bones.

Nothing was ever simple in the Great Island, however, the supernatural name for Great Britain, as both the Alfar who ruled and the rebels who wanted their own power both sought to use Jane against the other. Anyan and Blondie managed to keep her mostly safe, but besides those two, there was really no one she could trust.

A lesson she learned the hard way after a trap was laid for the Red, using the White’s bones as bait. Everything was going according to plan until the Rebel leader’s brother turned against them, releasing Morrigan’s minion, Graeme, whom they were keeping prisoner. He also brought Jarl to Morrigan, so that she could complete the ritual and resurrect the White.

Before Morrigan/the Red could complete the ancient rite, however, Blondie—already grievously wounded herself—killed Jarl. Thinking themselves triumphant, Jane turned to the Red…

Who, in dragon form, lashed out her tail, sending Anyan crashing onto the pile of bones. A few chanted words later, and the Red’s magic hit like a nuclear strike. Struggling to her feet minutes later, Jane was relieved to see Anyan still breathed.

Her relief was short lived, however, for when her lover sat up and blinked…

His eyes were the green, slit eyes of a dragon. Jane’s great love shifted into a dragon and flew away with the Red. And then she discovered her greatest ally, Blondie, was dead.

Leaving Jane all alone.

The agony was excruciating, a white heat at the center of my consciousness. Like that pinprick in space that pulls everything into its ever-widening gyre, the black hole inside me expanded.

Only moments had passed since Anyan, in the shape of the White, had flown away with his consort, the Red. The bones that had once held the White’s spirit lay scattered in front of me. The ivory shapes blurred as unshed tears glazed my vision.

Behind me, Magog, the raven, raised her voice in mournful ululation, keening for the woman she knew as Cyntaf, and I knew as Blondie. My friend and my mentor lay a corpse in Magog’s arms.

Meanwhile, my grief beat its own cadence, an infernal drumming reminding me, at all times, of my losses.

Blondie dead. Anyan as good as. Blondie dead. Anyan as good as…

For I knew better than to hope. I’d hoped once before, looking down into my first love Jason’s staring blue eyes, that reality could be malleable. But reality was always exactly that—real, no matter what we told ourselves or how many delusions we tried to build. Like sandcastles, they always crumbled.

[My child,] came the voice in my head.

Creature, I sobbed, feeling its love wrap around me. It, too, was unimaginably stricken by Blondie’s death. It felt she was a daughter, and one of the only remnants of a time long ago, before time began, when the world had been a different place.

Many of Blondie’s memories were its memories, and they died with her.

We mourned then, crooning into each other’s minds.

[Join with me,] it pleaded, and I instantly understood. We would live together in my mind, until we could function again. We would support each other, and we could heal.

I will never heal, I told the creature, that pit of hopelessness I knew so well yawning in front of me.

In my own mind, I took a step toward that pit.

But the creature was there, appearing as a single great eye. It flooded my consciousness as it went everywhere, wrapping around me, cocooning me…

Awake, I slept.

The pyre had long since burned out, but we could still imagine the heat on our face. Behind was more heat—Gog, Magog, and Hiral were pressed behind me, literally guarding our flanks, our back.

Combined together, an amalgamation of creature and Jane, we hadn’t moved in a day.

Instead we let the cool, wet English air blow the ashes of our friends and enemies against our cheeks, into our long, black hair, and we refused to think. We lived in our memories—a steely gray gaze, the flash of a tattooed bicep, the touch of a strong hand, a wave of power so unique it could only be our child…

The part of us that was the creature touched the part of me that was Jane again, a mental stroke as if to assure the other we were there.

Because alone we might break.

Our friend, daughter, ally was dead, and our lover was gone. Blondie had fallen at the claws of the Red, while Anyan had become the White.

We’d watched Blondie burn, thrown on the same pyre as the allies of the Red. Lyman, the rebel leader’s brother, and Jarl, the Alfar we had thought our greatest enemy, had burned with her.

It wasn’t logical to build an extra pyre when one would suffice.

Together they’d all turned to ash as Jane and the creature leaned on each other, together, here in this body where we could take shelter.

“Jane?” came the squeaky voice of the gwyllion, Hiral. “Are you about ready to leave?”

We ignored him.

“She hasn’t moved in twenty-four hours,” the raven, Magog, told her lover, the coblynau Gog. “Nor eaten. Nor peed. Nor slept.”

“Is she blinking?”

“Rarely,” replied Hiral.

We ignored them all.

“What do you think is happening?” Gog asked, his voice concerned. For even though he and Magog had originally been set to spy on Jane, the creature knew they’d come to like the girl.

“No idea. What should we do?” Magog said.

“We’ve got to keep her from the Alfar,” the gwyllion said, referring to the official supernatural leaders of the Great Island, or what the humans called Britain.

“We can’t do so forever,” the raven responded in her singsong Welsh voice. “She is the champion, after all.”

The part that was Jane stirred nervously, but the creature responded with a warm rush of power. Nothing would keep us from our grief.

“They’re going to want her to, er, champion,” said Gog.

Hiral snorted. “I don’t think she could manage ‘champion.’ ”

Magog’s retort was sharp. “Don’t mock. She’s lost everything.”

“She has people, doesn’t she? Do we contact them?” Gog was, as always, kind and practical.

“The Alfar will have our hides if we let the champion get away,” Magog said, a tone of warning in her voice.

The gwyllion spat. “They won’t have my hide. You get me names, I’ll get them word.”

Gog and Magog looked at each other, whether in agreement or in fear was anybody’s guess.

“But if she goes, what will we do to fight the Red and the White?” Gog’s question was fair.

“Don’t be stupid, coblynau. Can she fight as she is now? She’s like your girlfriend with clipped wings—useless.”

Gog put a protective arm around Magog, as if to ward off Hiral’s cruel jape.

In the meantime, we went inward. We were tired of the others’ words, tired of their concern. We were in mourning…

More memories came flooding in, at our beckoning. The first time the girl who would break our world used her magic. When we realized the dog was a man. The first time…

There were sounds around us. A car arriving. It had come once before.

“Is the halfling recovered?” came a new voice. A cold voice.

Alfar, we recognized.

Our friends remained silent.

“Well?” asked the voice again.

“No,” said Magog. “She’s not moved a muscle since you first saw her. Nor said a word.”

A lean, handsome face appeared before us. Griffin’s dark hair brushed his cheek and we thought of the feel of wiry curls under our palm, and a pink Mohawk that defied gravity.

“Jane. Jane! Are you in there?”

We settled further in, so far that even the sharp sting of a slap across our face didn’t faze us.

“Don’t hit her, you git,” Hiral said with a snarl. He liked us, too, although he was loath to admit he liked anyone. In fact, he was bleeding inside at the loss of Blondie. She had been one of the only living creatures to abide the little gwyllion, and he found it hard to imagine a future without her friendship.

The part of them that was Jane marveled at the creature’s omniscient viewpoint, even as she shrank away from Hiral’s pain. She had enough of her own…

But the creature was there, helping her lapse back into memory…

When they came to again, they were lying in a room. A goblin was flashing a light in their eyes, like a human doctor would. Finally, he sat back, shaking his head.

“There’s nothing physically wrong with her. She’s in a traumatic fugue state—totally disassociated. You are aware of her medical history?” The goblin spoke with a lovely accent Jane couldn’t recognize, but even as she questioned it, the creature supplied the answer—Irish, Dublin, upper class.

“No, we’re not aware of her medical history.” It was Griffin again. His voice might be smooth to a human ear, but underneath his calm tone lurked annoyance.

“Well, she’s gone doolally before, and under similar circumstances.”

“Dolally?” Griffin’s voice was dry. “Is that the technical term?”

The goblin winced, as if remembering to whom he was talking.

“Sorry, sir. I meant she’s had a psychotic break once before, and been committed.”

“Great. She’s been like this for a week. Our champion is a lunatic as well as a halfling.”

There was a time that comment would have amused both the creature and Jane greatly, but now they felt nothing.

The goblin, however, was not amused.

“She’s no lunatic, sir. She’s traumatized. She suffered an initial experience of loss as a young woman, in which a loved one died. Now this experience mirrors that one, only with two loved ones, one of whom died and one of whom became, excuse me, a great bloody dragon. Her mind needs time to process, to heal itself.”

When Griffin finally spoke, his always-cold tones had dropped into arctic temperatures.

“Remember your place, goblin. Healer or no, you can be replaced.”

The goblin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he gulped in air.

“And this ‘trauma victim,’ as you call her, is our champion. She is the only one who can kill the monsters that will, at any moment, recommence ravaging our lands. We need her on her feet and ready to fight. Is that understood?”

“Yes, sir.” The goblin’s voice was quiet.

We stopped listening at that point, in favor of our memories spinning before us like dangling sweets.

Anyan was calling for us, and we were trying to answer. His voice was weak, as if shouted through layers and layers of thick cotton, but we ached to respond.

That’s when the mage balls started hitting our shields.

We opened our eyes, unimpressed to find Griffin lobbing missiles at us in a bid to get our attention. Behind him, a spitting, struggling Hiral was held by two goblin guards. Magog and Gog stood to one side, looking uncomfortable.

“There you are,” the Alfar said, his voice irritated.

We blinked at him, our only response.

“You do not seem to understand the enormity of this situation,” the Alfar said. “You are the champion, and you have been playing this game of yours for two weeks now. We can no longer indulge your little strop.”

Our ire rose at his words.

“The Red and the White have been spotted,” Griffin continued, his gaze locked on ours. “Our reprieve is nearly over. They will attack soon, be sure of that. And we need our champion.”

We did not respond.

Griffin took a step closer, his face now inches from ours. “Look, halfling. Your bedmate is dead. He is the White now, and therefore our enemy. He must be destroyed, and unfortunately, we have to rely on you to help us. But if we attack now, we have a chance.”

Jane’s fear grew inside us, but we soothed her. Griffin continued.

“The Red and the White are still weak, still recovering. We can send in our best forces—immobilize them for you. All you need do is strike the killing blow. Even a halfling can do that, no?”

We thought over what the Alfar said. We conversed.

What if he’s right? asked Jane. What if Anyan’s gone?

[Do you believe that?] asked the creature.

No. No I don’t. But what are our options?

[We don’t know our options yet, child. We haven’t had time to think.]

No. We haven’t. But you do think there are options?

Jane’s voice was so sad, so scared, that we suddenly understood one simple fact.

We realized there must be another option, for to kill Anyan was unthinkable.

[Yes,] the creature said. [There are options. There are always options.]

For the first time since Blondie fell and Anyan was flung onto the White’s bones, we felt something other than despair. The tiniest glimmer of hope built within us, and we nurtured it as we would a flame. Jane grasped on to that hope, and she made a decision.

She was grateful for the creature’s intervention, but now she had work to do.

I need to be me again, Jane said.

[Are you sure?] the creature asked.

Yes, I think so. I appreciate what you did for me, though.

[Nonsense,] the creature said. [You helped me as much, or more, than I helped you.]

And then it withdrew, its ancient power that had cocooned me and kept me together through these last, turbulent days withdrawing. It didn’t leave entirely, and I knew that it wouldn’t until this whole affair was over.

But I was Jane again. And I wasn’t doolally, at least not entirely, or not yet. I could feel an edge there, however. A hard edge, a desperate edge—one that scared me. I knew I could run over that edge without even seeing it in the darkness.

But right now I had to find us some options.

When I raised my eyes to Griffin’s, he knew something had changed.

“Hi, Griffin,” I said, knowing that both the creature and I would be okay. I could still feel it, inside me, and I knew it wouldn’t leave me and that it would continue to comfort me, and that I’d reciprocate. But I had to be me again, for both our sakes.

I was the champion, after all.

“We’ve noted your concerns. The problem is that you haven’t given us any time. And we’re tired of your methods.”

I went ahead and continued using the royal “we,” since I knew that in this matter, the creature and I were partners.

“The fact is that we’ve spent too much time letting other people work for us, or tell us what to do, or guide us. Now it’s time for us to guide ourselves. We’re taking control of this little operation. And we’re doing it our way.”

Then I looked over to where Gog, Magog, and Hiral had all taken a step forward.

“You wanna come with?” I asked, feeling the creature warm at the thought. My friends, for they had become my friends, nodded.

The creature took us home.

Jane?” shouted my dad’s hoarse voice, right before his arms wrapped around me.

For a split second, at seeing my father, my grief nearly overwhelmed me. A ragged sound came from my throat and I felt tears burning down my cheeks.

I also realized it was the first time I’d actually cried over what happened. So I let myself.

My dad led me upstairs, to Anyan’s loft bedroom, as I sobbed. He sat me on Anyan’s bed and held me till I cried myself out. Then he held out a clean handkerchief he’d dug out of his pocket. I used it to wipe my face up, noticing that I could smell Anyan all around us. That nearly made me cry again, but I choked it down.

“Is it true?” he asked finally.

I nodded.

“Blondie’s dead,” I said. “And Anyan’s been turned into a monster.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I don’t know, Dad. I really don’t. Blondie and Anyan were always the ones who led. They had all the answers.”

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” my dad said. I looked up at him. His now healthy, pink complexion still looked a bit foreign to me, but the rest of him was so achingly familiar and safe after all the chaos of the past months. A few days unshaven, his craggy features were handsome, and his salt-and-pepper hair thick.

“What’s obvious?” I asked, my voice small. Like everyone, he probably thought I had to kill Anyan. Maybe I did have to kill Anyan.

“You’ve got to get him back, Jane. You’ve got to find a way to fix this and get Anyan back.”

I looked at him, tears welling in my eyes. It was what I’d been longing to hear since I first saw Anyan’s beautiful gray eyes gone green, but somewhere deep down I thought I was crazy for hoping.

“I do?”

“Of course. And I know you can. We have to figure it out. We’ll all help, of course.”

I smiled then, having never thought I’d smile again. It was refreshing to be wrong.

“You’ll all help. And we’ll figure it out,” I repeated, more for myself than for him. The words felt fragile in my mouth, but once they were uttered, they grew in strength.

“Yes,” came Iris’s voice from the stairway. “We’ll all help. And we will figure it out.”

I twisted my upper body to see all of my friends, old and new, peering around Iris. Lord knows how long they’d been waiting there.

Overcome with emotion, all I could do was hold out my arms. And then they were there.

Grizzie crowded in, smothering both my dad and me in her ample, enhanced bosoms. My dad looked alarmed, but I was used to it. Tracy was behind her wife, her arms wrapped around us as much as she could, considering her huge, pregnant belly. Iris and Caleb did their part and took the other side. Nell and Trill were in front and back, the gnome levitating herself to sling an arm around our necks. Only Gog, Magog, and Hiral stood back, looking a bit flustered at all the emotion. They were British, after all.

When we’d hugged and cried and everyone had said something about his or her own feelings of loss, we still stayed as we were, hugging each other tight.

Finally, my dad spoke.

“So, are we ready to figure this out?” he asked.

“Hell yeah,” Grizzie said, her husky voice growling.

“We’re getting Anyan back,” Iris told me. I noticed her voice was nearly honeydew again, and I could only grasp her hand tightly in response.

“We need snacks,” Tracy said, making her way downstairs, undoubtedly to rustle up some grub.

“I like these people,” said Hiral, following Tracy to the kitchen.

“I like them, too,” I said to no one in particular as we made our way downstairs. For we had some planning to do.

Operation Get Anyan Back was in full effect.

“So what exactly happened?” Grizzie asked as we all settled around Anyan’s large, open-planned living room. Iris made tea while Tracy put the finishing touches on the snacks she was preparing.

My stomach rumbled like a monsoon was about to hit, and I realized I was starving. Keeping one eye on Tracy’s progress, I turned Grizzie’s question around on her.

“I want to know the same thing,” I said. “How much do you know, and how do you know it?”

Grizzie gave me a finger waggle. “You should be in trouble, miss, but your dad explained everything. Keeping secrets from us…”

I hung my head. It had always bothered me that I couldn’t tell Grizzie and Tracy about my supernatural life, but it had been as much for their sake as the sake of the secret. The more they knew, the more vulnerable they were, and I wasn’t about to risk their getting kidnapped and tortured just because I couldn’t keep my gob shut.

Speaking of gobs, my stomach sounded again, rolling over and over in its emptiness. Everyone gave me a queer look as I clamped a hand to my belly.

“Sorry. I don’t think I’ve eaten in a few days. Er, weeks.”

My dad shook his head; as if that was the craziest thing he’d heard in the past week. Not me fighting a dragon, as I had in Paris, but me not eating.

“So how did it all come out?” I prompted, still wanting answers.

“You fought a dragon on television,” Tracy said drily as she placed a platter of sandwich halves in front of us. I picked up what I thought was turkey and cheddar, biting into it gratefully.

“There was that,” I said around my mouthful of food. It came out, “Der wad dat.”

“And then your ex showed up, with Caleb and Iris, and they whisked us out to the cabin we thought belonged to our famous local artist, Juan Besonegro, but actually belongs to another of your kind named Anyan, who is apparently something called a ‘barghest.’ ” Grizzie was really glaring at me now. It was one thing to keep my secret identity from her, another thing entirely to keep secret any single scrap of information regarding my love life.

Griz had priorities.

“Sowwy,” I mumbled through another huge bite of sandwich.

Tracy set down a platter of sliced-up fruit and a bowl of potato chips, both of which I helped myself to like a toddler confronted with a limited supply of Cheerios.

Tracy took a seat next to Grizzie, and finished what her partner had started. “Your dad explained everything. And he told us that he had only just found out, which made us feel a bit better. I think Ryu would have wiped all of our minds again, but Iris and Caleb talked him out of it, since everyone and their mother had already seen the dragon footage with you in it.”

I swallowed the bite I’d been chewing, then looked at both Grizzie and Tracy.

“I hated lying to you, I really did. But it was such a big secret, and it would have sounded so crazy.” Grizzie looked ready to protest, and I knew she’d tell me that I could tell her anything.

“But more important,” I said before she could interrupt, “I didn’t want you involved, because everything about this new world is so dangerous. If the psychos we’re dealing with thought you knew something important, the gods only know what they would have done to get it out of you. I didn’t want to risk your safety just because I wanted my friends.”

That seemed to pacify both women, and Tracy was staring at her distended, very pregnant belly. She and Grizzie were having twins, and that probably put a different spin on things for the two women.

“But I did want my friends,” I added, my voice small. “I wanted them very much, and I’ve hated not being able to ask for their help, or their advice.”

“And now you can,” Grizzie said, her eyes glazing suspiciously as she placed a hand on Tracy’s stomach.

Tears burned again in my own eyes as Nell’s voice came from her rocking chair, which she’d set up, as usual, near Anyan’s big fireplace.

“Now tell us what happened, child.”

And so I did. I told them all about our trip to the UK, and how everything had started out so straightforward. I felt something akin to shame as I talked about how easy I thought it would be. All we’d had to do was keep the Red from recovering the relics, the bones, from which she could cobble together her consort, the White. But between our constantly being a step behind and the political machinations of the Great Island, what the humans called Britain, what should have been easy never was.

And then I told them about that last, horrible day in the seaside town of Whitby, when we’d been betrayed by one of our own. The rebel leader’s own beloved brother, Lyman, had not only freed Graeme, the rapist-incubus, to warn Morrigan of our plans, but had delivered her chosen vessel, my arch-enemy Jarl, to become the White.

Even in those first, chaotic moments after Lyman’s betrayal, things seemed to be going our way. Blondie killed Jarl, and I thought it was over.

Which was very stupid.

I’ll never forget telling my friends, in a dark, grief-stricken voice, about the Red’s tail lashing out to strike Anyan’s shields, or how he flew through the air to land on the bones, or how she chanted something and it was like a nuke went off in our midst.

When I told them how I’d struggled up from where I’d fallen, my older friends—my father, Grizzie and Tracy, Iris and Caleb, Nell and Trill—all cried for me. My new friends, Magog, Gog, and Hiral, who either had been at the site or had helped mop up the carnage, sat quietly with inward-looking eyes.

I’d sat up to find Anyan sprawled out, and I’d thought he was dead. I told them of my relief when he sat up. But then he’d tu. . .