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Free Fall
Laura Anne Gilman
The Cosa Nostradamus is in disarray; the Truce holding violence in check has been broken.Magical Manhattan is at war, and Wren Valere is left without her partner/lover Sergei, whose past loyalties keep him from her side just when she needs him the most. Hoping to keep herself occupied, Wren takes a job–but what should have been an ordinary Retrieval instead forces her to realize that it is time to do more.It is time for the Cosa to take the battle to the enemy. But she'll do it her way. The Retrievers' way. Sneaky, smart–and with maximum damage possible. What was lost will be found, what was stolen will be Retrieved. And this war will be ended, once and for all. Wren Valere always finishes the job. Always.
Praise for the Retrievers novels of
laura anne gilman
Staying Dead
“An entertaining, fast-paced thriller set in a world where cell phones and computers exist uneasily with magic, and a couple of engaging and highly talented rogues solve crimes while trying not to commit too many of their own.”
—Locus
“Gilman delivers an exciting, fast-paced, unpredictable story that never lets up until the very end…I highly recommend this book to fans of urban fantasy, especially [the works of] Jim Butcher, Charlaine Harris, Kim Harrison, or Laurell K. Hamilton. This is an extremely strong start, and I hope Gilman keeps it up.”
—SF Site
“What’s a girl to do now that Buffy’s been canceled? Read Laura Anne Gilman, of course!…If Nick and Nora Charles were investigating X-Files, the result would be Staying Dead. These ‘Retrievers’ are golden.”
—Rosemary Edghill, author of Met by Moonlight
Curse the Dark
“Gilman has managed the nearly impossible here: a cleverly written and well-balanced fantasy with a strong romantic element that doesn’t overpower the main plot.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews [4 1/2 stars]
“Fans of Tanya Huff will cherish Curse the Dark, a fabulous romantic fantasy that showcases how talented Laura Anne Gilman is.”
—Affaire de Coeur
“With an atmosphere reminiscent of Dan Brown’s The Da Vinci Code and Umberto Eco’s The Name of the Rose by way of Sam Spade, Gilman’s second Wren Valere adventure (after Staying Dead) features fast-paced action, wisecracking dialogue, and a pair of strong, appealing heroes.”
—Library Journal
Bring It On
“Fans of Charlaine Harris, Kelley Armstrong and Kim Harrison will find Bring It On a very special treat. The author is an expert worldbuilder and creates characters that are easy to care about.”
—Affaire de Coeur [5 stars]
“Gilman has outdone herself…. The revelations are moving, the action is fantastic, and the ending is something that makes you wonder what will happen next.”
—In the Library Reviews
“Ripping good urban fantasy, fast-paced and filled with an exciting blend of mystery and magic…Gilman continues to explore a world where magic runs like electricity…where demons and other non-human breeds walk the streets in plain sight…this is a paranormal romance for those who normally avoid romance, and the entire series is worth checking out.”
—SF Site
Burning Bridges
“This fourth book in Gilman’s engaging series delivers…Wren and Sergei’s relationship, as usual, is wonderfully written. As their relationship moves in an unexpected direction, it makes perfect sense—and leaves the reader on the edge of her seat for the next book.”
—Romantic Times BOOKreviews [4 stars]
“Wren’s can-do magic is highly appealing.”
—Publishers Weekly
“I’ve been saying it all along, and I’ll say it again, this is an excellent series, well worth picking up, and I haven’t been let down yet.”
—Green Man Review
“Valere is a tough, resourceful heroine, a would-be loner who cares too much to truly walk alone. A strong addition to urban fantasy collections.”
—Library Journal
Laura Anne Gilman
Free Fall
AUTHOR NOTE
When I wrote the first book of the Retrievers series, Staying Dead, I was in love with the characters, the world, the magic system and pretty much everything about it. What I didn’t know was how everyone else would react. After all, I was coming in as a fantasy/horror writer, and LUNA was all about romantic fantasy. I wasn’t writing anything romantic, was I?
Wren and Sergei—and yes, P.B.—taught me differently. Because romance isn’t just about sexual love. It’s about the emotional attachments that form between people—no matter their gender, their background or, in fact, their species. Over the past four books we have seen that attachment grow, be tested and evolve into something quite, well…magical.
And it was in writing Free Fall that I realized how very magical love can be. Because when the weight of the past few years finally takes its toll on Wren, it’s not spells or weapons or her famed Talent that might save her. It’s love.
Oh dear. I’m a romantic after all.
I won’t tell anyone if you won’t.
Laura Anne Gilman
May 2008
For ChristineH. Because every Calvin needs her Hobbes…
“…And if we ever leave a legacy
It’s that we loved each other well.”
—“Power of Two”
Indigo Girls
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Ninenteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
one
Spring, 1910
New York City
The conversation was subdued and civilized, as befitted the surroundings: a large, tastefully decorated library, surrounded on three sides by leather-bound books and a marble fireplace, and on the fourth by a wall of floor to ceiling windows, respectably covered by sheet curtains to allow light in but deflect the gaze of those on the street.
Out of the murmured conversation, a complaint lifted into the air. “We must have a motto.”
“Oh, not again,” his companion replied. “Who would we tell this motto to, Alan? Where would we place it? Over what mantel would it be carved?” He gestured around the rather plain room they met in, the high ceilings and wainscoting on the walls almost austere in their simplicity. “It seems somewhat counterindicated for a secret society, if it truly wishes to remain unnoticed. If we must formalize our identity, I should think a statement of purpose before a motto.”
The argument had been raging on-and-off for three months now, ever since they had gathered to bring in the New Year and officially inaugurate their new organization, and most of the assembled men—eleven in all—were heartily sick of it.
The first man stuck to his guns. “We all know why we are here, Maxwell. A motto will bind us together, remind us of our purpose. Give us light in the darkness.”
“A lamp will work as well for that,” Maxwell retorted.
There was some muted laughter among the other men gathered, which quickly turned to coughs and covered grins. All eleven were well past the first blush of youth, with graying hair and faces that showed lines of wear. Yet they were all full of energy and vigor; the perfect advertisement for a generation of leaders, the lifeblood of Manhattan society, both business and social. Only under the surface did a difference show, a stern determination inherited less from Society and more from their Puritan forebears.
“Gentlemen, please.” Their leader, a relatively young man with a fashionably clean-shaven face and well-cut brown sack suit held up his hand. “Peace. Alan, I am certain that a motto will be chosen when the time is right. It is not a thing to be rushed, after all. Posterity would not thank us for an ill-chosen motto.
“For now, it is more important that we come to order with the day’s business. If you would please join me?”
The eleven men gathered around the long, dark mahogany table. It would not have looked out of place in a formal dining room, but instead of china and linen it was set with a three-color map of the United States, a Holy Bible, and a sword of gleaming watered steel placed lengthwise along the center of the table, its tip resting on the Bible. The hilt was of an Indian style, placing the age of the weapon at anywhere from 300 to 600 AD.
“Lord, we ask your blessing upon this gathering. In silence we have seen the wreck of human nature. In silence we have borne the preditations of the old world, the creeping darkness coming upon us.”
In New York, in America, they were safe. But these men looked beyond their walls, considered what might be looking at them with a hungry or jealous eye. And Europe was under more than one shadow, stretching out toward the New World. They knew it, even if the government did not, yet.
“In silence we have watched as the glory of your word was drowned under the work of evil-doings. And so in silence we gather now, to protect those who would be true to their better natures, those who have no defense against the serpent of evil save your flaming sword and fierce justice, and those who, through lack of knowledge, have no salvation. We are the wall between the old world and the new, and we ask your blessing upon our hands, and our weapons, to guide them true.”
“Amen,” the others chorused. They all sat down, seemingly without thought of placement or precedence.
“All right. I hereby call this meeting to order, on this the 15th day of March, the year of our Lord 1910. Have we any special orders to be brought forward at this time?”
There was a short pause, while the members looked to each other. When no one stood up or indicated they wished to address the group, the Speaker went on.
“Very well then. Have we updates on old business? Yes, Mr. Carson?”
The member so indicated let down his hand and stood up. Now that the meeting had been called to order, their speech was more considered, their address more formal. “The money-lending situation down near Green Street has been resolved. The gentleman in question understands that we will be watching him, and his rates, quite closely for the foreseeable future. I expect that there will be no further unpleasantness.”
A few grim nods at that: money-lending was not a crime, nor were the rates the man was charging—no one, after all, was forced to go to him for loans—but it was wrong nonetheless. Business was business, but there were seemly limits.
“Very good.” He looked down the table as Mr. Carson sat down.
