by Ireland Gill
Zero Rising
Soldier of Light Chronicles Book Three
by Ireland Gill
Copyright © 2020 by Ireland Gill. All rights reserved.
This novel is a work of fiction. All characters, places, and incidents described in this publication are used fictitiously, or are entirely fictional. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means – electronic, mechanical, photographic (photocopying), recording, or otherwise – without prior permission in writing from the author. Inquiries may be addressed via email to [email protected].
Cover Design by Yvonne Less, Art 4 Artists
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Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Zero Rising: Soldier of Light Chronicles Book 3
Chapter One A Girl, Interrupted
Chapter Two House of Echoes
Chapter Three No Surrender
Chapter Four Reunion
Chapter Five Cornered
Chapter Six House Guests
Chapter Seven Truce
Chapter Eight Unspoken
Chapter Nine Routine: Save, Sleep, Repeat
Chapter Ten The Phantom Hunter
Chapter Eleven A Question a Day
Chapter Twelve Every Rose Has a Thorn
Chapter Thirteen Stop and Kill the Roses
Chapter Fourteen An Unexpected Hurdle
Chapter Fifteen The Great Fray
Chapter Sixteen If You Give a Dog a Cookie...
Chapter Seventeen Monster, Uninvited
Chapter Eighteen Another Dance with the Devil
To my three beautiful girls, Kadence, Chloe, and Ashlyn
The three of you are my sunlight when clouds start to hover. My unwavering strength when weakness tries to overtake. The healing I need when I feel I am close to breaking.
You are the gravity that keeps me grounded. My beacon to follow when I am lost.
Because of the three of you, my life has purpose. You are my everything, my world, and I love you with all my being. This book is for you.
Chapter One A Girl, Interrupted
The rain let up slightly as we stood on the porch in silence. Our discomfort was discernible. Well, at least, mine was. I took a few deep breaths to compose myself, ready to focus on him once my eyes were cleared of the tears. Despite the million questions pounding in my head, I couldn't speak.
“Uh...so,” Jaxon murmured. “I'd say that went....pretty well.”
I sighed and just shook my head in shame. My previous behavior was deplorable...and it was also my twin brother's first impression of me. “I'm so sorry,” was all I could muster, hardly audibly.
“No worries,” he half-smiled innocently and shrugged. “I'm the one who should be sorry. I tend to have bad timing....with everything.” He looked at me apologetically.
I studied his deep brown eyes and the sincerity they held. “Jaxon, I mean it. I am really sorry,” I apologized again. I wished I could have effaced that previous scene from Jaxon's memory, but it was out of my control. He'd have this indelible, first memory of his twin sister and there was nothing I could do to change my first reaction when I opened that door to find him on the other side. I'd thrown a tantrum of rain over the front porch, kicked my Guardian/now-fading-angel-fiancé out of the house, and yelled at my dog. I was on a roll. I searched Jaxon's patient eyes as they stared back at mine kindly.
“Hey,” he put his hands up, “like I said, I'm famous for bad timing.” He laughed lightly. “So, let's try this again. Shall we?” He extended his right hand to me. “Hi, I'm Jaxon. I'm the dumbass who knocked on your door and ruined your morning.”
I felt a smile grow on my face as I caught at his contagious grin and started laughing along with him. I reached for his hand. “Nice to meet you, Jaxon. I'm Evika.”
“Good,” he gave a single nod, his shaggy brown hair tossing with the movement. “Now see? I don't know about you, but I feel a whole lot better now.”
“Yeah, me too.” I giggled at his witty attempt to lifting my mood. It had obviously worked. I studied him for a moment as I tried to pick out one of those questions pinging around in my head. “So, how much do you really know?”
“Well,” his brow rose as he shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets and rocked back on his heels, “probably more than I should, which was enough for me to think I was crazy for believing it.” He paused to take in my expression; one of concern. “But, I believed it enough to come and find you.”
His answer was somewhat vague, yet it made perfect sense to me. It was the simplicity of his explanation that intrigued me the most. I was lost in thought as I stared back at him.
“So, you really wanna go out right now, huh?” he asked.
I nodded, feeling a bit more uplifted after his changing the subject. “I certainly don't want to stay here right now. Do you mind? I mean, I know you just got here.” I slipped into my jacket and boots, then quickly checked the jacket pocket to be sure I had my I.D. and bank card on me. Relief set in when I felt their presence at my fingertips. My phone was upstairs in the bedroom, but I couldn't think of any good reason to go back and fetch it. Not now.
“Not at all,” he shrugged and smiled. “Which pony should we take?”
“Huh?” I looked at him, then focused my eyes behind him. Parked in my yard was a candy-apple red Mustang sitting right behind Aurora. It was a vintage – polished and flawless. “Holy shiz-on-a-stick. Is that a '67?”
“Sure is.” I heard him chuckle at my awestruck face.
“Un-freakin-believable!” I said as I eyed out his ride.
He laughed, throwing his head back. “Yeah, I thought that about yours when I pulled in.”
“Let's take yours?” I asked, hopeful.
“Sure,” he grabbed my hand and placed his keys in my palm. “But you're driving. I don't have a clue where I'm going and would rather enjoy the scenery anyway.”
I looked down at the keys, then back to his eyes, inquisitively. “Are you always this trusting?”
He smirked as he made his way down the porch steps. “I'd have to say it's one of my weaknesses.”
I breathed a nervous laugh before opening the car door and sitting into the black leather thrown. I turned the engine, feeling the rumble on my feet and under my seat. You'd think I would have gotten over the thrill of that part since I had my own pony, but there was something different about the classics. I listened to the engine hum and grabbed the wheel, winding my fingers around it to feel the laced leather. “Wow, you've got some great taste.”
“Likewise,” he nodded at my Mustang parked in front of us.
“So how long have you had it?” I brushed my hand across the seat bottom along my leg. “It sounds perfect and the interior is flawless!”
“I've had this thing for about four years or so. My - our grandfather gave it to me for my eighteenth and I kinda had to refurbish it a bit. Re-painted, reupholstered, new engine parts....” he paused for a moment, scanning the interior with his eyes. “Okay, so I had to refurbish it a lot,” he chuckled. “I just got this interior put in. Normally I'm a slob, but I do keep my cars clean,” he admitted.
“Hmm, slobbery,” I said. “Something we have in common.” I looked up at my house's bay window as I snapped the seatbelt in place and saw Beau propped up with his paws against the glass, barking consisten
tly. My heart ached. Hayden was nowhere in sight. I wiped what was left of the tears with my jacket sleeve and revved the engine a bit before putting the 'Stang into gear. “How does a thirty-minute drive to a pancake place sound?”
“Totally up for it. Drive on,” Jaxon replied as he buckled his seatbelt.
I drove slowly. Jaxon and I were talking all the way there, mostly about our Mustangs, and I'd nearly forgotten all about the situation at the house. Maybe we both just thought that acting as if nothing was really surreal would make it seem normal. Aside from feeling thrilled that it was so easy to talk to Jaxon, I still felt an underlying emotion of amazement; it was as if I'd known him all my life. We had so much to catch up on and understand about each other’s lives, yet we were blowing the subject off just to have a conversation about our cars, music we liked, and how hungry we were for pancakes. It was refreshing and, despite the fact that we both knew we had a much deeper topic ahead of us to discuss, it was as if we had an unspoken promise not to bring up the seriousness until we could sit face-to-face at the restaurant table.
We finally reached the Pancake House and I asked to be seated in the corner booth. My reasoning? Although I'd expressed to Hayden that he better not send Luka after me, I had a gut feeling that there would be other Guardians among us. I wanted not only to be able to have a full view of the restaurant's entrance to keep an eye on new “customers” about whom I may have suspicions, but also to be out of earshot of anyone who may overhear our conversation.
After placing our orders of coffee and buttermilk pancakes, a sober feeling hit the air. I took a deep breath and looked up at Jaxon. “So, are you like...me?” I was unsatisfied with that approach and decided to rephrase my question. “I mean, have you -”
“Crossed?” he finished for me, shaking his head. “No. I'm nothing special like you. Just an ordinary person.”
An ordinary person. He said it as if he were disappointed. “So, a Half-life?”
“Guess so.”
I took in this information and dug deep into my memories; the conversations with Hayden that resonated in my mind. Half-lives are humans that are a product of a Crossed human and completely Faded angel. If a Half-life is not saved prior to their death, Alysto, Keeper of the Wicked, could easily manipulate and turn them into what he wants if they are not strong enough to turn against him. His power is strong enough to lure the soul into his realm - the Dark Realm – where they could be trapped indefinitely. The worry in me started stirring, but I didn't want to alarm Jaxon – even if he already knew what it meant.
“Half-life isn't so ordinary,” I assured him. “Still a product of a Romeo and Juliet situation, you know?”
“Yeah, but nothing cool like you, though,” he answered with admiration.
I looked at him with concern. “Trust me, what I am isn't cool at all. If anything, it's a burden.”
“I'm sorry,” his eyes studied mine. “I didn't mean it as if I think things are easy for you. I just mean, out of every person on this earth, you were chosen. That's got to strike you as...” he paused and, as if it were impossible for him to keep things too serious for long, he let that cute smirk show up, “feeling kind of awesome. Like a super hero....?” His phrase ended almost as a question, then his worried eyes immediately searched mine for, I'm assuming, any hint that he'd offended me. But surprisingly, he hadn't. It only made me admire him for his perspective and his ability to, well, somehow say things like that and not piss me off.
“Glass-half-full kind of guy, aren't you?” I razzed him.
“Always,” he agreed. “This world would stop turning without people who can see things that way, you know?” He laughed.
“This is true,” I answered him, assuredly.
The waitress paid us a visit to refill our coffee. Realizing I had been neglecting the very reason I'd asked for the corner booth in the first place, I scanned the restaurant for any suspicious individuals. I knew if anyone were sent to keep an eye on us, it would be a Guardian I'd never met so it would make it much more difficult for me to spot him or her. I decided to commit the crowd to memory, but only the obvious candidates – like the young and handsome or the young and beautiful. Those were the features I'd noticed were most common among every, single Guardian I'd met up to this point.
There were a select few I'd honed in on as I tried not to be too obvious; a young couple sitting about three tables away. Both blond, flawless skin and dressed in spandex and running shoes. He, sifting through some real estate ads while she penned through what looked like a checklist as she either nodded or shook her head at his comments over the homes.
The table behind them - the booth in the corner opposite ours - sat a beautiful brunette in a white blouse and beige, mid-length skirt. She was rapidly texting on her cell phone while giggling and, it seemed to me, was too absorbed in whatever text conversation she was immersed to care about whatever was going on around her.
Then my eyes moved to the next candidate. About two booths from the happy texter was a young, dark-skinned gentleman with long, black dreads that hung past his shoulders. He sported a clean, white, v-neck t-shirt – a size almost too small for his muscular frame – and green camouflaged cargo shorts. He was reading the Pancake House menu when he suddenly looked over at me with dark, almost black, eyes. Maybe he noticed my stare. (So much for being discreet.) He then looked down at the table where he'd laid his cell phone, put the menu down and lifted his phone to his ear, paying me no attention once he seemed to be in a conversation.
It could have been any one of them, really. Any one of them could have been the strange Guardian sent out to watch over Jaxon and myself. Or maybe all of them were. I really wasn't sure how Hayden, Luka, or the Council had perceived this new curve ball thrown at all of us; Jaxon appearing out of the blue. So, the extremes they would take to be sure nothing else got out of hand was entirely a mystery to me. And, quite honestly, it was rather unnerving.
“I'm seriously starving,” Jaxon broke my trance. “You okay?”
“I'm great,” I answered a little too quickly. “Just trying to let this all sink in, you know?”
He offered me a solemn smile. “I know what you mean.”
A brief silence hit the air around our table, quiet enough to allow the protests of our hungry stomachs become audible. Just in time, our pancake breakfasts were laid out under our noses and we dug in before our waitress could even turn to walk away.
“So, you mentioned our grandfather. Is that who raised you? And does he know about me?”
Jaxon's face grew a bit more serious. “He is the reason I know about you, Evika.” The corners of his mouth pulled down. “But, Pop - our dad's dad, James - recently passed away from cancer just a few months ago.”
“Oh.” I sucked air, not expecting to hear this detail. “I'm so sorry.”
Jaxon stared down at his napkin in thought for a moment before looking at me once again. “And yes, to answer your question, that is who raised me. Just as you were raised by our Aunt Nora.” He froze immediately, an expression that showed he'd feared he may have said too much, too soon. “Uh, you did know about Nora not being our...real...?”
“Yes,” I declared quickly so he wouldn't have to finish. “Hayden told me the day I found out what I was,” I said as I recalled that first night I met the angel. My head went down as I thought of the events that led me here; all the years that had passed while I was left in the dark in regard to the destiny that awaited me...and left in the dark about family I never knew I had. This just flared my anger toward Hayden even more and part of me battled over whether or not I was still angry with my mother as well. Maybe she had just been waiting to tell me these things and never got around to it before she was killed. Maybe it bothered her to keep the secret; whatever arrangement was made and reasons for it, I'm sure she disagreed. I gave her the benefit of the doubt, but it still hurt that all of these things were kept from me all this time. Nonetheless, Hayden was my focal point when I felt the betrayal. Maybe it wa
s just because it was so easy for me to take it out on him. He may have had his reasons, but right now, logically, I realized I wouldn't have known about my twin until Jaxon decided to come find me and knock on my door. When the hell was Hayden ever going to spill that secret? What was the master plan? How long did he expect this entire fairy tale to last until something screwed it up?
“I can see that you're still angry with him,” Jaxon said to me, genuine concern in his eyes.
I was awed by his intuitiveness and looked at him apologetically. “Yeah. Angry about a lot of things, actually.”
“I'm sure he was waiting for the right moment, just like he said. I probably just blew that for everyone. And that is the part that wasn't explained to me; why it was such a huge secret.” Jaxon paused for a moment, reflecting before continuing. “Sounds like it was to keep us both safe. Simple as that.”
I sighed with a nod. “I'm sure you're right. But it still hurts, no matter what the reason. There had to have been a way around this.”
He mimicked my nod and looked at me thoughtfully. “So, this is one of the oddest things Pop told me, and I don't mean to pry but.....did your angel Fade? Like our mother did?”
“Yeah,” I bobbed my head, “he started – less than two days ago.”
He glanced at my left hand sporting the ring and looked at me intensely. “I'm sure that makes things a little more confusing for you too, huh?”
“You can't imagine what it's like going all this time thinking your life is something totally different from what you've known.” A quick flash of a memory showed me my mother's face, a serious expression. I felt my heart drop; almost with a feeling of guilt. “It's painful. Especially when someone you love and trust has kept it from you this whole time.”
“Actually,” he started, “I know exactly how that feels.” I looked at him curiously. “You think I've known about all this junk and just now came to find you?”
I gave him a questioning look. That's exactly what I thought.
